Who I Am
by geminigrrl
Summary: Sequel to "Wanna Bet?" Ziendriel questions herself and those around her as unusual circumstances surrounding her past comes to light. Will Legolas be able to save her from herself?
1. Prologue

****

**A/N: For those of you have been following this story, for some reason the site no longer had it on file. So I am (slowly) reposting it (I only had a few of the earlier chapters on my hard drive and am now in the process of looking for the disk that has all of the chapters). SORRY!**

**Disclaimer: Like with any other fanfic, I do not own anything of Tolkien's world, nor am I making any money. I do claim those characters and places that I have made up in this silly brain of mine.**

**Prologue**

_3000 years before the War of the Ring_

            The dark cloak of night served her purpose well, shielding her from the unfriendly eyes of those who sought after her. Her steps were light and silent as she weaved in and out of the tree giants of Greenwood the Great, casting a glance over her shoulder as she went. She drew her dark cloak around her body, shivering from the cold wind that blew along the forest. The seasons had changed dramatically and much too quickly, and she found that she was not prepared for the chill in the night air.

            _It does not matter, she thought grimly,__ This will soon be over and no longer will I need to worry for warmth. Her steps paused as another burst of wind swarmed around her. She gritted her teeth as her body tensed, feeling the skirt of her long dress flutter around her legs. She waited until the wind had passed before moving once again, but with more difficulty than before._

            The wound in her side had started to bleed again, dampening the stain of dried blood already present on her dress. She pressed a hand to the injury, grunting quietly as tiny sparks of pain shot to her side. She knew that it would take but a moment to heal herself, but she did not have a moment to spare. Doing so would close the distance between her and those that pursued her and she could not allow that.

            Instead, she pressed on, taking what air she could into her tired lungs. She had been running for the past three days and had yet to stop for rest. Such thoughts would not have normally entered her mind on such an endeavor, for she was, after all, an Elf. And like her kin, she had been blessed with grace and speed, as well as the ability to forgo rest on travels. Unfortunately, the injuries that she had sustained in her side, as well as her shoulder, were now slowing her progress.

            A noise that could only be heard by the keen ears of an Elf floated to her, causing her steps to quicken. With a quick glance backwards, she began to fairly run through the woods, keeping her head ducked against the wind. Despite the little protection her thin cloak provided, her cheeks and eyes were beginning to sting from the nips and bites of the night; tears formed at the corners of her eyes and she hastily wiped them away.

            _I must lead them away! She thought, resigned to her impending fate, _They must not discover what I have done, for then will the world perish!_ She shook her head at the thought and set her mouth into a grim line. The thought of denying destruction to Middle-Earth was not a vain one, neither was the importance of leading her enemies away from Greenwood to protect the innocents who dwelled there. It was the truth, no matter how grim._

            As she continued her pace, she was suddenly aware of the dark shapes running alongside her among the trees. The race of Men had never been the quiet sort, making it impossible for them to ever come upon an Elf in stealth. But she knew that stealth was the last thing on the minds of these Men; she knew what it was they desired from her for they had thrust swords into her body to persuade her to relinquish it. But she had refused- would always refuse- and had managed to escape their clutches in the dead of night.

            Her thoughts were drawn back to her current situation as she realized the Men were now closing in on her. She saw the dark shapes leap from the shadows of the trees, one on each side of her. For a moment fear gripped her heart in its icy vise, but fled as she took comfort in the knowledge of her demise.

            Her death would bring the threat of evil Men against the realm of Middle-Earth to an end, as well as ensuring the continuation of her legacy. Her thoughts briefly dwelt on the events that had led up to this point and a fleeting smile graced her lips. The image of a nameless Elven couple brought her renewed courage and she knew her death would not be an end.

            It was only a beginning and she accepted it.

            She suddenly stopped in her tracks, confusing and startling her pursuers. Her body stilled as she threw the hood of her cloak back, drawing up her shoulders with the grace and strength of royalty. She turned her blue eyes to the Men who now closed around her, calm and poised and unafraid. The two Men that had followed alongside her now stood before her, while more suddenly appeared behind her.

            They were all dressed alike in dark colored tunics and pants, all armed to the teeth with daggers and swords. Their hair was dark and varied in length, but all identical in untidiness and grime. Some of the older ones had much facial hair to rival a Dwarf, while the rest sported a stubble or growth worn by Men of their station.

            They all sneered as they closed in on her, their hands ready to draw their weapons.

            One came forward and she immediately recognized him as Durin, the leader she had spit upon during her first imprisonment by his men. He had not taken it too kindly and had backhanded her soundly for it. He was not looking too pleased at the moment, as if recalling the same memory, but she did not fear.

            "You did not expect us to give up so easily, now did you, witch?" he growled, stepping into the moonlight. His rugged features were immediately illuminated, casting unflattering shadows across his face. "If there is anything you Elves will learn of Men," he continued, not bothering to mask his contempt for her or her people, "Is that we are not easily swayed from what we desire."

            "You speak and feel contempt for my kind," she told him softly, "But yet, you yearn for something we hold. It is true then that jealousy and hate walk hand in hand."

            Durin grabbed her roughly by the neck and shook her slightly. "You will not talk to me thus!" he cried, angrily, "What would an Elf know of a Man? Or of his tendencies? You, Mistress Elf would do well to remember to hold your tongue in the presence of those who are at liberty to determine your very life!"

            She smiled wryly to herself, but said nothing. It was clear that this man had allowed his hatred to blind his eye from the truth of an Elf's soul. True he might be the one to strike her down, but in no way was he to be responsible for that ultimate determination. She believed wholly in the will of the Valar and would not falter from it, even in her last moments.

           Durin paced in front of her, though his eyes never left her. His breathing had quickened and was now coming in rapid, short intervals. He let out a low growl. "Now," he said, his voice low and menacing, "You will give me what I want, willingly, and I may just yet spare your life. If not, then I will take it by force!" He drew his sword then, allowing it to rest at the base of her throat.

            She shook her head and stared at him straight in the eyes with an intensity that she felt in her very being. "I cannot give you what I no longer possess," she answered, calmly, "For I assure you that I no longer have the power you seek."

            Durin nicked her neck, causing her to flinch. "Liar!" he bellowed, his body now shaking with fury, "Give this power to me now, witch! Only then will I ease your passing!" He once again rested the tip of his sword at her throat.

            She sadly shook her head at the obvious greed in his eyes. "I cannot," she repeated, softly. She slowly reached into the folds of her dress and pulled out the necklace that had been dominant on her neck. It was a silver chain that glowed in the darkness, simple in design. Upon it was a single charm of a tiny pair of hands made of silver, grasping a small orb. When Durin had first captured the she-Elf, the orb had been shining brightly, an emblem of her great powers. It had made his hands itch to grasp it, to take it into his possession…

            With growing horror, he suddenly realized that the orb no longer glowed. The necklace she now held up for him to see was that of a simple glass sphere, dangling from its chain. Durin felt his head begin to spin. Somehow, she had released her power from her hold, making her presence and their capture of her fruitless. He had not thought it possible, but the truth now stood before him, staring him boldly in the face.

            With a scream of pure fury, Durin, son of Narin, leader of the Men of Yelren, raised his sword high above his head. He knew, in the fleeting moment that he saw the determination in her face, that he would never pry the whereabouts of her power from her lips, not even in the greatest torture he could plague upon her. It was in that moment that he knew what needed to be done; he brought down his blade and in one swift motion, struck the she-Elf down.

            He watched in smug satisfaction as the body of Ainu, great Elven-sorceress of the Elven people, fell to the ground in a bruised and bloodied heap.    


	2. Chapter 1: After All This Time

**Chapter 1**

            The afternoon sun shone brightly on the great woods of Mirkwood, causing long shadows to fall gently across the ground. Life blossomed everywhere; it was evident in all the trees and bushes that sprouted silken green leaves, as well as the plants covered in the sweetest smelling flowers. The morning dew that had caused the forest to glisten in the sunlight had long ago disappeared as the day had worn on. Various species of woodland life freely roamed the woods, adding their notes to the melody of the forest, sustaining themselves on the offers of nature.

            A lone buck stood near a cluster of trees, munching peacefully on a patch of grass at its feet. He stood taller than the biggest deer, its great head dipping down as it caught its food in between his powerful mouth, then coming back up as his monstrous teeth chewed. His great set of antlers extended high above his head and his coat of long, brown hair shifted slightly in the soft breeze. He was a magnificent sight to behold, standing regally as he ate his afternoon meal.

            Unaware by the magnificent animal, four pairs of Elven eyes watched him. Each pair noted every move the buck made, slight or otherwise and took that information into memory. They watched as its head dipped down once more, only to come up with a large patch of grass in between its teeth. Strong jaws snapped shut, grinding the greenery into mush.

            At the signal of one, the owners of the other three pairs of eyes swiftly moved from their hidden venues and onto the branches of the nearby trees. As it had been determined beforehand, each Elf had positioned himself strategically in a tree, whereby surrounding the animal on all directions. All four quietly waited until the buck had lowered its head once more before springing into action.

            The Elf situated in the tree directly behind the buck gracefully jumped down from his bough and took off into a run, his long blonde hair shining in the sun as it streamed out behind him. The buck immediately sensed the newcomer's presence and snapped its head to attention. It took one look at the charging Elf, saw the intensity in its eyes, then broke out into a run in the opposite direction. It kept running as it passed the two other Elves also positioned in trees, one on either side. They however, did not join their companion on the ground in pursuit, but merely jumped from tree to tree, landing ever so slightly on the branches, keeping an eye on the fleeing prey.

            Their strategy was to drive the prey towards another companion situated at the front of the chase. That hunter would have a perfect shot to take down the animal, thus bringing the hunt to an end. It was a perfect plan, one devised with careful thought and calculation by their leader and was especially formatted to bring experience to the aforementioned hunter.

            The buck knew that it was being pursued and in a panic heightened its speed to get away. It could see the two Elves running alongside him among the trees, but it was the Elf behind that concerned it most. The Elf was quickly gaining, his footsteps just as swift as its own. For a moment it wondered when its end would come, but continued to run.

            The leader of the hunt stood watching from the safety of his spot in a tree, anticipating the swift strike from the arrow that would surely bring the animal down. He watched and waited as his companions drove the buck closer and closer towards the designated location, then became surprised when the animal ran past unharmed. Frowning, the leader swiftly notched his bow and in one fluid motion, brought the thundering animal down to the ground. When the dust cleared, the end of his arrow could be seen protruding from the back of the beast's neck.

           He agilely jumped down from his perch and ran over to meet his companions. While pleased at catching such a prize, Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood frowned. He glanced at his companions, his dear friends Jhad, Gragoc and Lorith and became even more displeased to see them shaking with silent laughter. He glared at them, then glanced up at the tree a few feet behind them. Its branches were empty and he frowned again.

            "Where has she gone to this time?" he muttered, exasperated.

            Ziendriel did not know why her husband insisted on bringing her along on his hunting expeditions. Whenever she protested, Legolas always answered with a logical reason, which always concerned her ongoing lessons. The reason for their last hunt had been to accustom her to the dealings of hunting at night. The one before that had been to test her endurance at tracking prey on foot. Before that, it had been to teach her of the safety that the trees provided from any retaliating animal. The list went on and on, and although she appreciated all the effort and time Legolas invested in her training, it was beginning to overwhelm her.

            The expedition she now faced was fast becoming much like those before it. Although Ziendriel listened to Legolas' instructions with rapt attention and committed it to memory, she could not help but feel that she would be better off at the House of Healing, using the skills that she did know. Being a Healer was part of her core existence and while on a hunt with her husband, Ziendriel could not help but feel guilt at the thought that she was neglecting her healing duties.

            Of course, she did not speak of this to Legolas for she knew of the importance these lessons held for him. At first it had been merely because of a fascination of archery she had held that he had taught her; she had proved to be a willing and eager student during those first weeks of learning. The purpose of the lessons now (as well as those that were taught by Legolas' three closest friends), she knew, was to calm her husband's fears of her inability to defend herself.

            Ziendriel knew that those fears stemmed to the events before their marriage, when she had been kidnapped and tortured by a she-Elf named Adrianna Roseleaf. Adrianna was the daughter of one of the king's counselors and had been quite mad in the mind. It had been that madness that had caused Adrianna to kidnap not only her, but Ziendriel's younger sister Ariel, as well as Elyse Silverstream, another counselor's daughter. For almost a week, all three maidens had been held captive in the kingdom's underground caves, long forgotten by its inhabitants.

            It was purely by the grace of the Valar that Ziendriel was still here, now married to the prince she so deeply loved. He had saved her, not only from the cave that had long been her cell, but also from her own despair while there. It had been thoughts of Legolas that had strengthened her will to survive, to cling to the hope that he loved her, despite all that had conspired between and against them. She knew how close she had come to death and whispered daily thanks for the blessings of being able to enjoy the beauty of the world around her. She was truly grateful to be alive.

            "I cannot say the same for this expedition," she murmured, breaking from her thoughts. She had long ago wandered away from the area of the hunt that Legolas and their friends were now stalking, partly from tiring of waiting, but mostly because of the cry of a bird that had called to her ears. Her Healer's heart had immediately caused her to search out the animal, for its cry was that of injury. 

She wandered several yards away from her perch, her ears straining to locate the injured animal. When the cry sounded again, she listened carefully, then veered sharply to her left. She had not walked very far when she found the bruised and bloodied baby songbird. It had obviously fallen from its nest high above in the trees and was now being attacked by a fairly sized spider, one of Mirkwood's less favorable inhabitants. The spider was obviously a baby, the size of a small boulder and was no doubt trying out its capabilities. It did not hear Ziendriel quietly approach, nor did it see the frown that crossed her face.

While it was true that she did not favor the killing of any other life, Ziendriel knew an unfair fight when she saw one. The spider was taking advantage of the bird (a newly born one from what she could see), who was desperately trying to move out of harm's way. She became startled when the spider suddenly reared back on its legs, ready to spring upon its helpless prey.

Before she knew what she was doing, Ziendriel quickly notched an arrow to her bow, took aim and released her shot. It had been done with speed she had not known her hands to have and she was pleased when she saw that the spider was now pinned to a nearby tree. Even after ten years of practice her aim was still not the best, but the spider was dead, and that was what mattered at the moment. She slowly made her way to the now screeching bird and gently scooped up its tiny body into her hands.

Whispering a few words of comfort, Ziendriel began to gently stroke the bird's head. The screeching slowly died down to a small chirp, bringing a smile to the healer's lips. With one hand, she fumbled for a moment with the small pouch at her waist, then produced a small vial of clear liquid. Sitting down on the ground, she gently laid the bird in her lap and opened the vial. After pouring a small amount of the liquid onto her fingertips, she began to massage the bird's injured wings. The baby screeched at first, in protest and pain, then quieted down once again as the healer continued her ministrations. She could feel the tiny broken bones in the wing, as well as some of the torn skin where the spider had sunk its teeth into. She smiled warmly at her patient before whispering a few words of an Elvish healing spell that Lord Elrond had taught her. Her fingertips began to slightly glow as she applied them to the bird's body.

A moment later, the light slowly faded and Ziendriel watched in delight as her patient quickly hopped to its feet. It looked at her for the briefest moment, then burst into a lovely song. She smiled as the baby slowly spread its wings, its injuries healed and mended, then took off in flight. She watched as it soared higher into the sky, singing its notes as it did so.

The sound of her husband calling her name quickly tore her eyes away and almost guiltily, Ziendriel leapt to her feet. Hesitantly, she called back, "Here, Legolas!" She quickly ran over to the body of the spider pinned to the tree and began to tug at the end of her arrow. She did not want to leave an evidence of her doings in plain sight, for it would no doubt subject her to merciless teasing by the Masters of Mayhem (known by name as Gragoc, Lorith and Jhad) but frowned when it would not budge despite her efforts. It was only at the approaching footsteps of Legolas and the others that she gave up and quickly turned towards them, carefully shielding the spider from their sight with her body.

Legolas approached the area from which his wife had responded, the frown still upon his face. He did not like it when Ziendriel was not within his sight or the fact that he did not know her whereabouts. After the whole ordeal with Adrianna, Legolas had kept a close watch on the Healer, much to her dismay. He knew that she did not like the feel of watching eyes on her, but he could not take the chance of having her being taken from him once again. He could not risk it or her.

He finally found her, standing in front of a large tree. From her stance he could tell she was fidgeting, much like an Elfling did when caught at some mischief. He approached her, then stopped a few inches away. "What was it this time?" he demanded, a brow raised expectantly, folding his arms across his chest.

He smiled when she blushed guiltily and ducked her head. "A bird," she answered, quietly, as she began to wring her hands. Her head snapped up as she heard his laughter mixed with that of the others. "It was injured!" she exclaimed, "I had to help it; a spider had gotten to it and was going to kill it." She looked somber, but indignant.

Legolas glanced over her shoulder. "So I see," he murmured, looking at the large spider pinned to the tree. When he next looked at her, his eyes were full of pride. "Well done, _melamin,_" he told her, "Your aim was true." He affectionately tapped her nose with his finger, then added, "However, I am still displeased that you wandered away during the hunt. The buck almost got away."

At this she rolled her eyes. "Why must I come on these expeditions?" she demanded, "All I ever seem to do is find injured animals while I am supposed to be hunting!" She heard Gragoc snort with laughter and frowned. "Do you not think my time would be better served at the Houses of Healing?" she asked, hopefully.

Legolas shook his head. "What is the point of these lessons if you never utilize them?" he asked her, "The purpose of this trip was to practice your aim on a moving target. The buck was a perfect opportunity, yet I find you here, killing baby spiders and healing injured birds…again." This was not the first time Ziendriel had wandered off. On many of their other trips, Legolas had found her healing some animal or another. It was quite amusing, but he did not dare to let her know that. He wanted his wife to be able to defend herself should the need arrive, and encouraging her little escapades would not help.

"Could we not just strap targets onto Lorith and Gragoc?" she asked, pretending to be serious, "The way in which they run would perfectly imitate that of a wild beast!" Her eyes danced with laughter and Legolas fought hard to keep the growing smile off his face.

"Little wench!" Gragoc exclaimed, in mock outrage. He lunged for her, but she quickly sidestepped him, causing him to plow right into Legolas. She laughed as the two fell to the ground in a heap of flailing arms and legs, then again when they began to wrestle.

Lorith took advantage of her momentary distraction and reached for her. Ziendriel, however, had caught the movement from the corner of her eye and quickly caught his wrist in her hands. In one quick motion, she quickly turned away from him, bringing his arm over her shoulder. She bent her knees and firmly planted her feet into the ground as she flipped him over her shoulder and sent him crashing to the ground in front of her.

"Your reflexes have greatly improved, Zien," Lorith told his sister-in-law, wincing. The pain he was now experiencing made him question why he had ever offered to teach his wife's sister to defend herself, for she was proving to be a fast learner. He took the hand that she offered him and shakily stood to his feet. He grinned when he saw her apologetic face. "Ah, don't tell me!" he said, "You did not mean to do that and it was only because I took you by surprise." When her blush confirmed it, he threw his arms up in defeat. "When will you learn, Zien, that you will not be apologizing to those who wish to do you harm?"

She opened her mouth to respond when a new voice entered their conversation. "_Ada?" it softly called, "_Atara_?" All turned to see a small, blonde haired child with the brightest blue eyes standing tentatively a few feet away. He looked at the group of adults before him, wondering if he had intruded upon something._

At the sight of the boy, Ziendriel's eyes immediately lit up. "Erundil!" she called to the child, then rushed forward to catch him in her arms. She swung him around once, holding him high in the air, causing the elfling to laugh.

Legolas smiled as he watched Ziendriel smother their son with kisses. For his part, Erundil rolled his eyes as he struggled against his mother's embrace, but his half smile told his father otherwise. Legolas knew that his son loved being close to Ziendriel and pounced on any opportunity to be wrapped safely in her arms. 

"_Atara!" the child whined, but giggling as he did so, "Put me down!"_

Ziendriel laughed and with one final kiss to his smooth face, set him on his feet. "You are growing far too heavy for me to hold!" she pretended to complain, though her back had felt it. At only five years of age, the top of Erundil's head nearly reached her waist. His blonde hair, much like that of his father, fell past his shoulders and his arms and legs were already beginning to show their strength and grace, for the child's love for his forest home lead him on many adventures in its trees. It was also because of this love that he had been allowed to accompany his parents on their hunting expedition.

Erundil stood proudly at the statement and grinned at his mother. His eyes, though they took after color of his father, held the same softness and understanding that was often seen in hers. "Papa says that at long last he has been given a boy," he told her, speaking of his maternal grandfather, "But, I do not understand what he means, _Atara._" He turned curious eyes to her, even as his father and uncles chuckled.

Ziendriel just grinned. "Unfortunately, I do, dear one," she answered, "And Papa will regret that he has made such a comment!" Her eyes twinkled with laughter as she thought of her father, the king of Mirkwood's chief counselor. She knew that he loved her and Ariel, but had always hoped for sons. Unfortunately, his desire had never been granted. As she had grown, he had often tried to interest his daughters in the more male orientated activities of the kingdom, but to no avail.

Erundil recognized the look in his mother's eyes and giggled. "Is Papa in trouble?" he asked. His Papa was a tall Elf, taller than his father, but it did not scare his mother in the same way that it did him. He giggled at the image of his Papa being scolded by his mama.

"Perhaps," she answered, grinning, "It will all depend on what mood I am in when we return to the palace." She then turned to Legolas and added, "That is, if your father has finished reprimanding me and will allow me to return." She turned questioning eyes to him, challenging him to deny her.

Legolas merely grinned. "For now," he told her. He stepped forward and swooped Erundil up on his shoulders, much to the boy's delight. "In the meantime, we should return to the main house," he added, "The envoy from Rivendell should be arriving within the hour." He began to make his way back to the fallen buck, galloping as he did so. Erundil shrieked with laughter.

Ziendriel turned to the others. "Envoy from Rivendell?" she questioned. She watched with interest when frowns appeared on all three faces.

"Lord Elrond has sent word that Lady Roseleaf has been cured," Gragoc answered, still frowning, "He is sending a representative to the king to discuss her return to Mirkwood."

Ziendriel simply nodded, but remained silent. She knew that events concerning Adrianna were a sore spot for all three lords, but she could understand their resentments. She herself had gone through it as most had expected her to. Anger, resentment, and hatred, all of those emotions had coursed through her body at one time or another after her rescue. It had shaken her to the core to feel these emotions and she had not thought forgiveness possible. After much thought and soul-searching, she had finally forgiven the lady. In truth, Ziendriel knew her life was much more brighter than if she had not forgiven. There was no heavy weight bearing down on her heart and she once again felt safe. She just hoped that one day, she would be able to help her husband and friends to forgive as well.

They soon joined Legolas, who was now strapping the great beast to his horse to carry back. The rest of the steeds stood nearby, waiting to be mounted. Ziendriel called for her horse, Vanesse to come forward, and watched as the magnificent animal stepped towards her. She gently stroked the snow-white body of the animal, softly whispering in the horse's twitching ear as she entangled her fingers in the soft, silken strands of silver mane. Vanesse had been a gift from Legolas on the anniversary of their third year of marriage; she was the foal of Androwyn, the beautiful silver horse that had belonged to Legolas' mother. The preciousness of the gift had deeply touched Ziendriel's heart and on that day she had vowed to care for the creature with all that she had.

She reached up to gently stroke the spot behind Vanesse's ears when a blinding flash of light burst before her eyes. Her breath caught in her throat as her body tensed, causing her to grip the hair of her horse tightly in her hands. She heard a roaring wind rush up to her ears, drowning out the lively sounds of the forest as bursts of images flew past her vision…

_A royal courier sat atop his steed, galloping through the kingdom's forest. Though his eyes were fastened to the path before him and his posture was that of an expert rider, his command to his horse to turn right was suddenly met with misfortune. The animal's hoof stepped down onto a patch of loose rocks, causing the horse to stumble and fall, throwing its rider high into the sky. The courier landed on the ground with a loud thud, knocking the breath out of him…_

Ziendriel was torn away from her vision by the sudden nudge of Vanesse. She blinked rapidly, shaking her head as if to clear her thoughts, then turned her attention back to her horse. Almost distractedly she gave Vanesse a gentle pat, then glanced over to her husband and their friends. They had not witnessed her moment of uncertainty and she felt relief flood through her body.

_What is happening to me? She wondered, truly puzzled, _Why am I plagued with visions of others? I do not know what they mean nor do I know why I receive them. They come more swiftly now, more numerous than in the past. But I have yet to comprehend their meanings.__

Pushing these thoughts aside, for she had no answers to give, Ziendriel stole a glance at Legolas. He had much on his mind concerning her and she did not wish to further burden him with the matter of her sudden visions. She watched as he finished strapping the prize of the hunt to his horse, then turn to Erundil, who was standing close beside him. He pointed out to his son the death blow at the buck's neck, which completely enthralled the child. Erundil stared at his father with the utmost adoration in his eyes, making Ziendriel smile. Their son idolized Legolas, which often resulted in the child secretly imitating his father in composure and grace. She had happened upon it one day, quite by accident, and had watched from behind the slightly opened door as Erundil perfectly executed Legolas' stride. She had stifled a threatening giggle, but had been forced to flee when his keen ears had picked up the sound.

If the truth be told, Ziendriel had been amazed at the striking resemblance between the two. In all outward likeness, Erundil was the perfect image of his father; even King Thranduil had remarked upon the uncanny likeness, often jesting that he must have stepped back in time. "He looks just as Legolas did at that age!" he had told her more than once. As the boy had grown, it had been puzzling to realize that everything he had inherited concerning his outward appearance had been pulled heavily from his father.

Vanesse once again nudged her, an action that told of the mare's eagerness to leave. Ziendriel laughed, then swung her herself upon the animal's back with the grace and agility that only an Elf could possess. "Legolas!" she called, holding tight to the horse's mane for Vanesse was already clomping her hooves, "I will meet you back at the main house. Vanesse is in sore need of a good run!"

Legolas frowned at her suggestion, then shook his head. "I do not think it wise, wife!" he called back to her, causing the smile on her face to disappear, "Wait but a moment and we shall be ready to accompany you." He nodded to the others whom quickly scrambled atop their own steeds.

Ziendriel sighed and soothingly patted her horse's neck. "Forgive me, _lirimaer (lovely one)," she apologized quietly, "For it seems my dear husband has not yet forgotten the events of the past." Vanesse quietly neighed, then snorted._

Legolas walked his horse over to his wife's and watched the exchange with amusement. "What are you telling that horse of yours now?" he asked, looking up at her. When Ziendriel just smiled, he added, "Thanks to you, the animal finds need to nip at my shoulder whenever I am near!"

"Oh, 'tis a love bite!" she answered, laughing, "Surely you are able to tolerate one?" She arched a brow at him.

"There are so many replies to that question," Lorith interrupted, the mischief evident in his eyes, "Many of which are not appropriate for an Elfling's ears." He motioned to Erundil, who now sat perplexed in his lap.

Legolas turned to glare at him. "Then I will kindly ask you to not corrupt my son's innocence by speaking of them aloud," he told him. Lorith just laughed.

Vanesse was beginning to dance sideways with impatience. "Shall we go?" Ziendriel asked, pulling gently on the reins. The horse snorted once again and neighed irritably.

Legolas took one final check of the ropes that held the buck fast to his horse, then glanced over to where Erundil sat in Lorith's lap atop his horse. "Will Vanesse allow me the pleasure of riding with my wife?" he asked, smiling up at her.

She merely shrugged. "Come closer and we shall find out," she teased.

Legolas took a tentative step forward, his eyes locked with those of the horse. When Vanesse made no movement towards him, he braved another step, his body ready to react should she make for his shoulder. Ziendriel watched her husband in amusement, stifling her laughter. There had been many nights when he had come to her with a set of horse teeth marks in his bruised shoulder, muttering darkly about his eagerness to see if Vaness could swim to the shores of Valinor. It never failed to make her smile as she thought of this, for she knew her horse was in no danger from her husband.

 Legolas was now close by Vanesse's side, grinning at his accomplishment of not receiving a bite. He opened his mouth to say something just as the horse's mouth darted forward. A yell and curse echoed in the woods.

Vanesse neighed throatily and trotted away, while Ziendriel laughed. Legolas just frowned as he grumpily rubbed his nipped shoulder, casting an evil look at the retreating animal.


	3. Chapter 2: Matters of Forgiveness

**Chapter 2**

            Ziendriel stared at Legolas, the shock written clearly on her face. "What do you mean I cannot accompany you?" she demanded.

            Legolas inwardly sighed as he crossed the room to clasp his wife's hands in his. They were now standing in their bedchamber, freshly scrubbed and dressed after returning from their hunt earlier in the day. He had tried to refresh himself as quickly as possible for the envoy he had spoken of had arrived and awaited his appearance. Ziendriel, however, had caught him just as he had opened the chamber's door and had questioned his sudden departure.

            He now saw that telling her of the counsel his father was holding regarding Adrianna had been a mistake. Almost immediately, Ziendriel had asked to go with him. The logical part of his brain had agreed with her, but the other, the part that was ruled dominantly by his heart had screamed out its denial; unfortunately, his mouth had obeyed his heart before he knew what he was doing.

            And now, his wife stood in the middle of their bedchambers, staring somewhat incredulously at him. The change from the naive and innocent maiden he had met ten years ago to the she-Elf before him was astounding: she of course still looked as she did all those years ago, but there was now much more wisdom and maturity in those green eyes of hers. Her hair remained untouched by time and hung in a flowing sheet of dark silk down her back, while her eyes burned brightly within her face. The effects of pregnancy nor childbirth had not spoiled her body or her skin; both were still smooth and flawless, and only helped in making her husband fall deeper in love with her.

            "I am sorry, _melamin_," he now told her, clasping her hands, "I am merely suggesting that it would be best if you did not participate in the counsel; I did not say you could not accompany me." He gently squeezed her hands and offered her a small smile.

            She looked questioningly at him. "Then I may go?" she asked, suspiciously.

            He tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her pointed ear, allowing his finger to linger on the soft spot behind her earlobe. "Perhaps I will not attend and stay here with you," he answered, grinning madly.

            Ziendriel laughed, then slapped his hand away. "Your distractions will not work, milord!" she scolded, wagging an accusing finger at him, "Nor will it succeed in scattering my thoughts!" She stuck her tongue out at him as he rolled his eyes. "I will have a straight answer from you, husband!" she added.

            This time, Legolas did sigh aloud. "Ziendriel," he began, almost tiredly, "My father is no doubt waiting for me; I must go." He gently kissed her on the forehead and turned to walk away.

            "You must forgive her, Legolas."

            She had spoken it quietly, but it stopped him nonetheless. The truth in that sentence held such power, such belief that it chilled him. It was a plea that until now, had been unspoken between them, but nevertheless existing. Not once in their years of marriage had Ziendriel asked him to do this: not days after her recovery from her abduction, not the day they had announced their betrothal, nor on their wedding day. She had never asked him to do this one seemingly simple action.

            Memories of Ziendriel's torn and bloodied wrists flashed before his eyes, causing him to wince. The events that had caused those injuries had happened over ten years ago, but Legolas did not think he would ever erase that image from his mind. It was that image that fired his will to see that his wife knew of his love for her every single day and to reassure her that she and their son were safe.

            Without turning to look at her, Legolas said, "My heart is not like yours, wife. Forgiveness does not come easily for the one who has hurt you and in turn hurt me."

            He heard her sigh, then the rustle of her dress as she came to stand behind him. "You cannot carry on like this, Legolas," she told him, softly, "I have seen the way this affects you, the way this resentment haunts yours eyes. You harbor it, stoking it with your anger, allowing it to fester within your heart. It controls your actions, as well as your thoughts. You are not the same lord I met all those years ago in the gardens."  She tentatively reached out to place a hand on his back, then gasped in surprise when he swiftly turned to face her, capturing her wrist.

            "If I am not the man you once knew," he said, harshly, "you have Adrianna Roseleaf to thank for it! If my eyes are haunted with turmoil it is because of her! I have every reason to feel nothing but hate and contempt for her, anyone would agree to that! Why can you not allow me this?" His eyes were blazing with a fierceness that she had not yet experienced, rendering her speechless. She took a step back from him, mesmerized by the light that shone in the twin orbs of startling blue. She gently tugged her wrist from his grasp.

            "The day you pleaded for mercy on her behalf, my father asked if you had forgotten what Adrianna had done to you," Legolas continued, quietly, "Do you remember what you spoke in reply?"

            Ziendriel nodded. "I replied that I would always have reminders of it," she answered, unconsciously rubbing her wrists.

            He once again grabbed her wrists. "Yet, I do not see such evidence from your statement," he said, turning her wrists over and staring at the smooth and unmarred skin there.

            "The emotional reminders are still there, Legolas," she said, pulling out of his grasp, "As they always will be. I spoke of the reminders that would not be seen once the physical ones were healed."

            "You are right, _meleth_," he told her quietly, "The reminders will always be there. They may not affect you the way they do me, but I can assure you that they will always be there, playing over and over in my mind!"

            Ziendriel watched silently as Legolas turned on his heel and stomped out of the room. He nearly collided with her maid, Tiri, but she managed to successfully jump out of his way. He stopped for a moment to regard the servant, staring at her hard and intently. The scrutiny made her squirm just a bit as she bowed her head before him, tactfully avoiding his eyes. After a rather long moment, Legolas muttered something under his breath and walked away.

            "Mistress?" Tiri called hesitantly from the doorway.

            Ziendriel gave her a small smile before motioning her in. "I apologize, Tiri," she said, "I fear the master is in a foul mood." She sighed, then took a seat at the window. "Come, join me," she told the younger maiden, "Take but a moment from your duties and tell me what your day has conspired of." She patted the cushion beside her in invitation.

            Tiri blushed, but did what her mistress asked. She sat down next to her and watched as Ziendriel offered her another warm smile. Tiri found herself smiling back and like many times before, felt a flood of relief wash over her as she thought of how fortunate she was to be able to serve the Princess of Mirkwood. It was because of the Lady before her that she, a chambermaid, was able to retain her station as such a servant, and not rot the rest of her immortal life in a prison for her misdeeds. She owed her life to Ziendriel, but feared that her servitude would not be enough to redeem herself in her mistress' eyes.

            _She has forgiven me, She thought, and found that the fact still marveled her, __But_ I have yet to forgive myself. I regret the day I agreed to Lady Roseleaf's plan, for I was blind and naïve. I fear I will pay for that for the rest of my life!__

Ziendriel saw the frown forming on her maid's face and gently smiled. "What is wrong, Tiri?" she asked, "The frown that threatens your lips could rival that of my husband! Pray tell me what it is that makes you frown and I promise I will try to remedy it!"

             Tiri started at being found out and merely shook her head. "'Tis nothing, mistress," she answered, sheepishly, "I fear my thoughts have wandered because my hands have stopped their duties." She grinned.

            Ziendriel laughed. "We may be Elves, Tiri," she told her, "But, it does not mean we cannot rest." She smiled, then fell silent, her eyes wandering towards the window. She took in the beautiful sight before her, reveled in the peaceful songs of birds that drifted into the room, sighing contentedly. She remained like that for a moment before sighing. "No matter what the past has thrown to us, Tiri," she said, softly, "The promise of a brand new day is always on the horizon. Do you not agree?"

            Tiri nodded, her hazel eyes somber. "Of course, milady," she answered, frankly, "Each day of my life has been proof of it, I have no doubt."

            Ziendriel turned to her, smiling as she did so, for she knew of what Tiri implied. She did not regret her decision to take her as her servant nor did she have second thoughts of forgiving her. Her assumption of Tiri had been correct and she had proven herself time and again as a most faithful servant.

            Ziendriel clasped the chambermaid's hands in hers, then jolted when the familiar flash of white light blinded her eyes…

            _Tiri ran frantically along the western road, her eyes large and afraid. She stumbled over the hem of her dress, gasping as she tried to run faster, then cried out loud at the sound of an approaching horses. She threw a glance over her shoulder, screaming as the sight of a dark horse and its rider descended on her, his sword raised high in the air. She saw the blade brightly reflecting the sun before turning away, urging her feet faster. The horse bore down on her, snorting loudly, as its rider quickly brought his sword down upon her…_

Ziendriel gasped, clutching Tiri's hands in horror. Her eyes flew to her servant and was relieved when she saw her sitting there, gazing at her in concern.

            "Milady?" Tiri asked, somewhat panicked, "Milady, what is it?" She had never seen her mistress like this before, as if she had gazed upon Death's face. Her mistress had turned pale and her body rigid, and for a moment, her eyes had glazed over.

            Ziendriel took a deep breath, then shook her head. "I am fine, Tiri," she answered, a bit shakily, "Truly, I am. I think perhaps the day's activities have caught up with me." She smiled, then averted her eyes.

            Tiri frowned as she looked at her mistress, unconvinced. "Perhaps a visit to the Houses of Healing would be in order," she suggested. The color was now slowly returning to her mistress' face and her eyes were no longer clouded, but she still looked a bit shaken.

            Again, Ziendriel shook her head. "There is no need for it when some water will suffice," she answered, smiling weakly. She watched as Tiri stood from her seat and crossed the room to the desk, where a pitcher and goblet sat. She poured the clear liquid carefully into the cup, then hurried back to give it to her mistress, who took it with a grateful smile. After draining the contents, she added, "See? All better."

            Tiri raised her brow in skepticism, then slowly shook her head. "If you say so, milady," she murmured. She returned the goblet to the table, then added, "I fear I must return to my duties. Please send word if you are in need of me, for _anything, milady." She looked pointedly at her._

            Ziendriel giggled, for the action reminded her of Velia. "I will," she assured her, "And I have decided to visit my sister, should you find the need to check up on me." She giggled again, when Tiri blushed for she had been many times caught shadowing her mistress with orders from Legolas.

            Tiri curtsied quickly, then hurried from the room, her blush still evident. Ziendriel watched her go, then stood from her seat. A frown appeared on her face and worry creased her brow. The vision of Tiri had been disturbing to say the least, but it had not been the worst she had received. No, that had been mild compared to …

            She pushed the thought away, for she did not wish to see that vision again. She had received it over five years ago, but the fear she felt every time she thought of it did not lessen. She would rather think of happier things and see them with her very own eyes. Grabbing her cloak from a nearby chair, she quickly threw it around her shoulders and exited the room. Her steps took her down to the main floor, where she turned down towards the tunnel that led to homes of the king's counselors. For a moment she was tempted to visit her mother, then thought better of it. _Knowing Ariel, Mother will already be at her home, helping with the twins,_ she thought, smiling.

            A few years after their son Arandùr had been born, Ariel had surprised them all by giving birth to a pair of twins. She and Lorith had named the boy Tùre and the girl Lìre, and they were now proving to be quite the handful, having taken after their father. The twins were now three years old and a great source of happiness for their aunt.

            Pausing before the door that led to her sister's home, Ziendriel lightly knocked. She heard footsteps nearing the door, then blinked when it was thrown open, allowing the sunlight from the sitting room of the house to flood into the doorway. "Your Highness," the maid greeted, curtseying. She stepped aside to let her in, swiftly taking the cloak that was handed to her.

            "Is my sister here?" Ziendriel asked, inwardly groaning at such formalities. She had never been comfortable with her station as a member of nobility and she doubted that the title of 'princess' would ever feel normal on her.

            The servant nodded. "I believe she is in the garden with the children and your mother," she answered, "If you would follow me?" She gestured to the back of the house.

            Ziendriel merely nodded and followed. She stepped out of the house through the back door, relishing the warm sunlight on her face. She kindly dismissed the maid and watched as she disappeared back into the house before heading out towards the garden.

            The garden was a large area behind the house that consisted of tall hedges and flower bushes expertly planted by the king's gardeners. It was a beautiful sight to behold and one could seemingly get lost among the hedges that formed a small maze at one end. In the main area were a few benches and chairs to sit upon, while providing a grassy area for Ariel's children to run and play.

            Entering the garden through the arched entranceway, Ziendriel soon found whom she sought: Ariel sat upon one of the benches, sewing, while their mother sat next to her, watching the children as they played a game of tag. Arandùr caught sight of her first and came running towards her.

            "'driel!" he yelled, flying into her outstretched arms. As he had learned to speak, Arandùr had never gotten around to properly pronouncing his aunt's name. After awhile, the name had just stayed. They both laughed as they tumbled to the ground in a small heap.

            The twins joined them a minute later, only to shriek with laughter when their aunt began to tickle them. "What have you monsters been conspiring this day?" she asked, smiling as they writhed on the ground, their faces bright with smiles.

            "Nothing!" they chorused, giggling.

            "Then I know you have done some mischief!" she told them, scooping them up, one under each arm, "For only mischievous Elflings answer so quickly!" She carried them back towards their mother, who had stood to greet her.

            Ariel gently kissed her sister's cheek. "I do wish you would behave like a princess, sister," she scolded her, "To be on Legolas' bad side is not my wish and allowing you to wrestle around like an Elven-lord in my garden will surely help to put me there." Her blue eyes danced with laughter as her lips twitched in a smile. If anything, Ariel had grown even more beautiful during the years and motherhood seemed to greatly agree with her, for her eyes shone brightly as she gazed upon her children.

            Ziendriel rolled her eyes. "I fear anyone and everyone will be on my husband's bad side this day," she answered, walking over to their mother. She gently kissed her cheek and asked, "_Sut__ naa lle umien sina re (How are you doing today)?"_

            Lilia Yalith smiled at her eldest daughter. "I am fine," she answered, "But you are changing the subject." She offered the empty space next to her on the bench. "Tell us what matter clouds the mind of your handsome husband?" She looked at her expectantly.

            Ziendriel sighed. "I am surprised Father has not told you," she answered, "Or Lorith." Their father was still chief counselor to the king, while Lorith had been appointed to take his father's place since the older Elf had journeyed to the Undying Lands. 

            "You know your Father does not like to bring his work home with him," Lilia answered, shaking her head, "As I am sure Lorith does not also. Come, tell us for we are in sore need of gossip." She winked at her daughter to label her jest.

            Ziendriel weakly smiled. "Legolas dwells on the past," she answered, "It rules over the logical side of him, turning him into someone I do not recognize. And with today's counsel, I do not think his mood will lighten."

            "What is so important about this counsel?" Ariel asked, snatching a clump of dirt that Tùre seemed intent on eating, "It had Lorith in such a frenzy that he was not fully dressed when he left." She gently slapped her youngest son's hand when he tried to wrestle the dirt from his mother's hand.

            Ziendriel fixed her eyes on the clouds that overlooked the garden. "An envoy arrived from Rivendell today," she answered, "Lord Elrond has deemed Adrianna cured and is requesting she be sent back to Mirkwood." She winced when she heard her sister gasp and saw their mother nearly jump out of her skin.

            "Is that the bad she-Elf that hurt you, 'driel?" Arandùr asked, his blue eyes wide and innocent.

            Ziendriel shot her sister a glance. "What have you told him?" she asked, curiously.

            Ariel shrugged. "Just that Adrianna was bad and locked us both up in a bad place," she answered, then frowned when her sister looked exasperated. "Just because you have forgiven her, sister, does not mean the rest of us have," she continued, "Besides, I told my son the truth. Adrianna was bad."

            "Yes, but did you tell him that she was sick?" Ziendriel demanded, "And that she went to Rivendell to be healed?" When Ariel made no answer, she leapt to her feet. "Why am I the only one to see this matter clearly?" she exclaimed, "By all accounts I should be the one to resist the idea of forgiveness, yet there is a running competition for that title among my loved ones! Why?"

            Lilia took her hand and squeezed it gently. "Not in front of the children, dear," she whispered, nodding her head in their direction. The children were openly staring at their aunt, confused. A bit louder, she said, "You are right, daughter. But so is your sister. Forgiveness is given by those who are able to; unfortunately, your sister and I cannot. Not at the moment. Perhaps one day, but today is not that day."

            Ziendriel slumped her shoulders down in defeat. "And what of Legolas?" she asked.

            "Legolas, it seems, has taken on what you should have shouldered," Ariel answered, softly, "He has the most difficult of tasks, I believe: forgiving the one who has hurt the other half of his heart. Do you not understand what Adrianna's actions have caused for him? He speaks to Lorith of the image of your beaten body, your bleeding wrists for they forever haunt his mind. Everyday that he looks upon you, he cannot help but see that image flash before him. It is not good, I know, but he cannot let go of it. He feels no justice has been served."

            Ziendriel sighed. "I wish I could make him understand," she said, sadly, "It is eating him from the inside out and I do not know how much worse it will get before it will get better."

            Lilia hugged her and smiled. "You must never give up hope, daughter," she told her, "I am sure Legolas knows you are beside him; that should do for now."

            "Besides," Ariel added, lightly, "it cannot get as worse as you imagine for I am wanting more nieces and nephews." She smiled, hoping to lighten the mood a bit.

            It worked, for Ziendriel gasped in shock. "Ariel!" she exclaimed, swatting her arm, "Do not speak of such things in front of your children!"

            Her sister laughed. "Oh, they do not know of such talk," she answered, "Not yet, but I fear Lorith will change that shortly." She smiled to herself at the thought of her husband.

            Ziendriel grinned as she watched her sister. It had greatly warmed her heart the day Lorith and Ariel had announced their betrothal, for she could not think of any Elf who better suited her sister than Lorith. They complimented one another perfectly with their near opposite personalities and it made Ziendriel glad to see her sister know happiness.

            "I do not think Legolas could go through another birthing," Lilia now jested, giggling, "He almost did not survive Erundil's!"

            Ziendriel burst out into laughter, as the image of her husband standing so calmly beside her bed as she pushed their son from her body came floating back to her. She remembered the day clearly….

**FLASHBACK**

_            "Push, Ziendriel!" __Velia__ urged, "I can see the babe's head!" Her head dipped down to check the baby's progress, then came back up with a smile on her face. "Just a bit longer, child!"_

_            Ziendriel grunted as she bore down, pushing hard as she clutched her husband's fingers. She was tired and in pain as she had been laboring for the last three days and she felt a flash of annoyance as she glanced at Legolas. He looked nowhere near to the untidiness of his wife and it bothered her that she should look so vile while not a hair on his head was out of place._

_            "Hold!" __Velia__ suddenly commanded, holding a hand up. She smiled at Ziendriel, then turned to Legolas. "Would you like to assist your babe into the world, your Highness?" she asked._

_            This startled the prince. "May I?" he questioned, clearly surprised. When the seasoned Healer nodded, he stepped close beside her and glanced down. The calm face that had dominated his face suddenly faltered as he saw his child's head emerging from the birth canal. __Velia__ hid her smirk as she looked at the flabbergasted prince._

_            "Your Highness?" she prompted, nudging his side._

_            Legolas blinked, then glanced at her. "Uh, oh," he stammered, then nervously looked at his wife. Through her exhaustion he could see the amusement in her eyes and blushed. "What must I do?" he asked._

_Velia_ smiled, then proceeded to guide him through the necessary steps. The child was born moments later, with its father trying hard not to pass out on the floor at such an experience.__

**END FLASHBACK**

            Ariel giggled. "Lorith made the mistake of asking him about once," she said, "He got a mighty bruise on his arm for his troubles."

            Ziendriel smiled. "Legolas tried hard not to faint," she said, "But, in the end the birthing proved to be too much for my war-hardened husband." She broke into giggles again and was joined by her sister.

            Lilia smiled at the sight of her daughters laughing. "Come, no more teasing the prince while he is not here," she scolded, but failed miserably to appear stern, for her smile refused to wipe away, "The sun will soon set and these children need baths."

            At the mention of the "b-word" as Lìre called it, all three children screamed and took off running into the maze. Ariel groaned and turned to her mother. "I told you not to say that word in front of the children!" she told her.

            Ziendriel laughed. "I will help you," she offered, knowing the evening meal would not be for awhile. Erundil was still with his tutors and would later be taken care of by Tiri, so she had no pressing matters at the moment. She was not eager to return to the stormy disposition of her husband as of yet, and being with her sister, mother and niece and nephews did wonders for her troubled heart. It pushed the thought of impending danger to the back of her mind, where she hoped it would remain as such.

            "I did not see you at dinner."

            The sudden statement startled Ziendriel as she sat by the window brushing her hair, staring out into the night. Her brush dropped to the floor as she whirled around on her seat. Legolas stood in the doorway of their bedchambers, illuminated in the light of the lamps that burned softly as he stared at her with the calmness of a still pond in his eyes. She watched as he closed the door behind him and stepped further into the room. He still wore the tunic and leggings she had last seen him in that day, but his clothes suggested at his exhaustion.

            "I visited my sister after you left and she invited me to stay for the meal," she answered, softly. She bent down to pick up her brush, the hem of her simple nightdress grazing the floor. She walked over to her side of the bed and laid the brush on the nearby table. "I trust Erundil was there?" she asked.

            Legolas nodded, watching her slide under the covers. "Ate more than his fair share, I believe," he answered, smiling a little as he heard her soft laughter. He took a hesitant step forward, then stopped. "Ziendriel," he said, softly, "_Melamin, amin hiraetha_ (I am sorry)." He bowed his head. "I did not mean to speak such harsh words to you," he added.

            Ziendriel climbed out of bed and quickly walked over to him. "_Dina, a'maelamin (Be silent, beloved)," she whispered to him, placing a gentle hand to his face, "There are no need for apologies for no damage has been done." She lightly kissed his lips, then smiled softly at him._

            He pressed his forehead to hers, an action they had adopted as their own through their years together. "Will I ever forget?" he whispered, running his fingers over one of her wrists, as his free arm circled her waist.

            "In time," she whispered back, watching as his fingers ran repeatedly over the sensitive skin. She had been more surprised than anyone when she had discovered the scars there, as well as on her ankles had disappeared, leaving no mark. It had puzzled the Healers, for those had been most severe. Her burned hand had healed as well, and showed no evidence of its previous infliction.

            Legolas gently scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed. As he gently laid her down, he whispered, "Help me forget, Ziendriel." He kissed her gently, brushing his lips across her mouth.

            She gently cupped his face with her hands and returned his kisses. "Always," she told him, softly.


	4. Chapter 3: Yelren

**A/N: This is just fair warning; this chapter contains a made up location. If this offends you (as I am sure there are many Tolkien Purists out there) then I apologize. It is just a small kingdom of Men that I created to fit in with the plot to my story. Again, I apologize if this offends anyone.**

**Chapter 3**

            In the tiny kingdom of Yelren, the race of Men was once counted among the richest and prosperous of their kin. Their lands of rolling grass-covered hills were situated far south of Minas Tirith and west of Ephel Dùath, the Outer Wall of Mordor. At one time, plots of ripe farmland dotted the rising horizon, filling the eye with a glorious view of prospering crops and livestock, many of which were sources for the kingdom's abundance of food. Lush plants and green grass had also laid claim to the lands of Yelren, stretching across it like a great blanket fallen to the earth. 

It was these Men that many had called upon for warriors when aid was needed. They were descendants of the great Men of Gondor who had stood proudly in their existence and knowledge of their heritage. One could always depend upon the banner of Yelren to fly high over the north tower of the main house to call its people home, much like the stars govern wayward travelers. 

The leader of this once great group of Men stood atop the outer wall of his house, his dark brown eyes watching the sun rise above his lands like it always had. He was not a young man, but he was not yet of old age, either. This was Narìn, son of Dùr, son of kings as his bloodline dictated him to be. As it had become his custom since becoming the leader of his people as his father had passed away two winters ago, Narìn had risen early so that he might stand and greet the sun. And always, as he watched its rays spill across his lands, he felt the sorrow return to his heart.

Yelren was no longer what he knew his kingdom had once stood for. Gone were the farmlands and animals, gone was the greenery that had rolled across the hills. Barren, dried soil remained in their place, kicked up by the slightest breeze and blinding any poor soul that happened upon it. Gone was the pride of the Men of his kingdom, who now numbered less than two hundred in rank, as well as the hope that their blood would live on through time; the women proved to be barren, as the last child born of their kingdom was now well into adulthood.

The banner of Yelren, once waving proudly atop the north tower now hung limply, torn and battered in the dead air. Where it was once a source of great pride, it now mirrored the dying spirit of its people. Men and women alike shared the same haunted look in their eyes, the same death of their souls within their bodies. Many shut themselves up in their dilapidated homes, waiting to die or to go insane. There was no strength left in them, no source of hope.

Narìn knew this, saw it and wept. Though his heart broke with each new day, he had not given up hope. The restoration of his kingdom would be a great undertaking but he was willing to have it start with him. He would never wholly believe that his people would be wiped from their existence in Middle-Earth, not when they had done so much for it. It was not an option that he would accept willingly, but out of necessity

The state of his people was not his fault, he knew that. Nor was it the fault of his father, the ruler previous. The decline of his people and their land had started many, many years before his existence with the actions of one forefather. Narìn knew not who this Man was, nor what he had chosen to do, but it was clear of the consequences that had come forth because of his action. The people of Yelren were now suffering because of it and Narìn knew he should not, but he cursed his ancestor.

"How have we arrived here?" he now murmured to the sun, "How has the actions of one coursed through the times to arrive here, that my eyes might witness the demise of my people?" He stood silently, waiting for the sun to answer, but knowing that it would not. No one had answers; not even him, the leader of his people.

"Milord!" The call from his left, and Narìn turned to find his advisor steadily walking towards him. Though they were dying, there were still many in the ranks that felt as their king did and retained their strength; this advisor, Kel was one of them.

"Greetings, Kel!" Narìn told him, clasping his arm in warmth, "What brings you to me so early in the morn?" Like him, Kel was tall with dark hair and eyes, as well as the slightly tanned color of skin. The men of their people had been blessed with these attributes, just as their forefathers had been in the ages before.

Kel bowed to his king, then brought his eyes hesitantly to look at him. He cleared his throat, then announced, "Some very…interesting news has been brought to my attention, milord."

Narìn stared at him for a moment, regarding his counselor. For a seasoned warrior as Kel, he was acting very strangely; almost eager, like a child with a secret, bursting with importance and impatience to share it. "What is it, Kel?" he asked, curiously.

He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut when he realized where they were. "Let us retire to your chambers and I will reveal my findings to you there," he answered, quite gravely.

Narìn nodded, then followed his advisor back within the walls of his house. Though they were of the same height, the leader found himself hurrying catch up with the long and eager strides of his counselor as they walked across the hard and dusty floors. _I do not remember the last time the servants have swept the halls, he thought, grimly, __Perhaps the servants have long passed away for I do not remember the last time I have laid eyes upon them. He pushed that thought away, slightly shaking his head._

Like the lands outside, the House of Narìn was slowly becoming barren. The floors were covered in dirt, the walls were slowly crumbling and there were beginnings of holes in the roofs. It was a depressing sight to the king, to see the house in which many great leaders before him had dined, slept and lived, only to fall to pieces now.

They arrived at his private study and quickly stepped inside, with Kel shutting the door behind them. He waited until the king had been seated before coming forward to grab a large and dusty book off of the monarch's desk. "I happened to come across this in the library," he told Narìn, "Or what is left of it." Just a few days prior, their beloved vault that had held the history of their people, had crashed to the ground, due to the neglect of its now spiritless librarians. "I went there in hopes of salvaging our history," he continued, "But instead, I believe I have stepped closer to salvaging our people." His eyes glinted with the fire of hope and determination, which startled his king.

"What exactly have you found?" Narìn demanded, motioning him forward. He watched as the counselor hurriedly took the seat opposite him, then eagerly opening the book. Dust wafted from its pages, but Kel pushed it aside with a wave of his hand.

"This is the account of Durìn, son of Reidul, king of Yelren," he explained, pointing to the small and rather elegant handwriting of a past librarian, "The writing is a bit hard to decipher, but I can tell you that it dates back to several years after the Dark Lord Sauron was defeated during the Last Alliance of Men and Elves. Look." He pointed to the date printed at the top of the page, which was indeed still intact.

Narìn looked, but was not impressed. "Why exactly am I interested in reading this knowledge?" he asked, growing impatient with his friend's dramatics.

Kel flushed, noting the annoyance in the voice of his liege. He nervously cleared his throat, then said, "It contains some rather interesting reports on his last journey that took him far west." He pointed to the passage, urging him to read it.

Narìn frowned, but took the book from him. He set it down on the desk before him, coughing as an explosion of dust swirled around him when he did so. Once the air had cleared, he allowed his eyes to roam over the words written on the page. It was a slow endeavor for words were smudged or unclear.

_Here within is written the last account of Durìn, son of Reidul, King of Yelren. "After many days of long pursuit we once again had Aìnu in our grasp. It wass in her hands that the destiny and fate of our people once lay for she had the strength to overcome Death coursing through her Elven veins. I have seen it with my own eyes; I cannot deny what thoughts possession of this power brought to my mind: power, immortality, everything for my people. To have this power, to wield it would no doubt bring Yelren to even greater stature and rule! But alas! The foolish sorceress has denied me, denied my people this hope. She has somehow rid herself of this power, for her emblem, her symbol no longer glows with it. Upon the knowledge, my body was filled with such a rage that I struck the fair Elf down with my sword!"_

Narìn looked to his advisor, puzzled. "I knew that Elves possessed great healing powers, but not of the strength to overcome death!" he exclaimed, "How is it that we were never told of this account of Durìn?"

Kel shrugged his shoulders. "That I do not know," he answered, "Perhaps it is because the power was not obtained and was not deemed worthy enough to tell." The excitement returned to his eyes as he pointed to the next passage. "But, I urge to read on!" he added, almost smiling.

_This is the account of Brinru, librarian of the House of Yelren: "As per my master's request, I have met and conversed with the scribes at Minas Tirith to collaborate with our histories. While it is fascinating to hear the history of Yelren recorded with that of the great city of _Gondor___, one account has stayed with me throughout my visit. It is an accompanying account to that of the one of Durìn, son of Reidul and Aìnu, the Elven sorceress. I know of the circumstances that caused him to strike her down, but I had no knowledge of the events thereafter. The scribes of Minas Tirith were able to obtain the account from the Elves themselves, which is a curious thing. Perhaps they, too, wish to be included in the history of Middle-Earth once they pass to the West? I do not know, but here is what it recounted: Fleeing for her life and fearing what the Men might do, Aìnu took her energy from within her and fashioned it into the matter of Elven form. It was then given to the womb of an Elven maiden who later birthed it as that of an Elfling. The sorceress was slain shortly after the giving of her gift. The babe, who is unknown to Men, has been raised as an Elf, with the power of its creator within."_

Narìn looked up sharply from the book. "So that is what became of the sorceress' powers," he said, "Interesting. But, why do tell me this?" He looked curiously at his confidant.

Kel's eyes shined with excitement. "Do you not see, milord?" he asked, "Our people are dying, losing their spirit while the Elves have the power to remedy that! Durìn saw the vision first, let us hold onto it! Let us go to the Elves and ask for a sampling of this power that our kingdom and its people are restored!"

It was a tempting offer, Narìn knew it to be so, but he was uncertain. Power as great as the one now before him often came with a price and he did not know of what that price would delve among his already weakened people. His forefather had had the desire to wield it, but could that had been possible? Could he have done so wisely and uncorrupted? Could he, Narìn, King of Yelren, do so if gifted with this power?

It took less than a second, but Narìn knew that he could not. The power, the responsibility, it would be too much. It was no wonder Durìn had felt such anger after being refused nor was it doubted why the Elves were the ones to receive such power. The Elves were magical creatures, bred with the ability to control and harness those gifts given to them. Men, although often with good intentions, were only human and easily overwhelmed. With a power such as that of Aìnu, he could see how good intentions could be replaced by greed and lust for more power.

Narìn smiled sadly at his friend. "No, Kel," he told him, "this is not the answer for us or our people. This was brought upon us not by Elves, but by those who have long passed on; therefore, it is up to us, the people of Yelren to restore ourselves." He stood from his chair and closed the book.

Kel looked at his king, the disbelief written all over his face. "B-But, milord!" he exclaimed, "How can you disregard this? This has been placed before you and-"

"NO!" Narìn yelled, pounding his fist onto the table, "No, Kel! This power was meant for the Elves, not for Men! You do not understand, I see that! With it, Men could not progress as they were meant to be; with it they would be hindered from the life and prosperoty that is dictated to Men. I dislike admitting it when my people are in such a state, but Death is a part of that life and we must accept it!" He pounded the desk once more, his eyes blazing.

Abashedly, Kel lowered his head. "Forgive me, milord," he said, quietly. His shoulders stooped as his head hung down, his arms limp at his sides. He sighed heavily and slightly shook his head.

Narìn softened at his contriteness. He walked around his desk and put a hand on his shoulder. "I know this comes from a desire to help your people," he told him, "But this is not the way, Kel. There is another way and we will find it. Believe it." He offered him a small smile, then stepped out of the room.

Kel watched him leave, his expression a mixture of somberness and frustration. Many years had Yelren suffered from its current state and he did not know how many more years their people would last. Many had been claimed by death, while just as many left to search for a better life. Those who had stayed and now suffered were those who truly devoted themselves to their home and would rather perish than leave it. Kel was one of the latter, but he did not know for how much longer. It was evident that the land of Yelren was on the dawn of its end and it saddened him to know that he would witness it.

**A/N: I have to put this in here because the idea I had about the sorceress taking her powers and giving it an Elvish form comes from a storyline in the tv series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Those who watch it will know what I am referring to. I borrowed the idea, but since I am not profiting from this story monetarily, I have no fear of being sued! LOL!**


	5. Chapter 4: Could It Be?

**Chapter 4**

            Several days following the arrival of the Rivendell envoy, King Thranduil hosted a competition in their honor. The envoy had consisted of seven Elves, all whom of which were trained in the ways of warriors. It was agreed that a friendly show of sportsmanship between the two Elfdoms was in order and all who were invited to participate were eager to do so.

            Ziendriel shook her head as she sat in between Erundil and her father-in-law, gazing at the open area before them. She thought it unfair that she should be here now when her parents were nowhere to be found; Ariel had also declined to come, claiming such an event was no place for children. Ziendriel had desperately attempted to excuse herself from the event the moment she had heard of it, but it seemed all of her family was against her in the matter. They had coaxed and suggested at her attendance, even as the excuses had flown from her mouth. Amazingly, it had been Velia who had convinced her to attend, although she knew of Ziendriel's intense dislike for the sport.

            "The prince will no doubt be contending in these 'games' as you call them," Velia had reasoned when Ziendriel had told her, "He will expect you to be there to support him; you are, after all, his wife _and_ the Princess of Mirkwood."

            That had sealed her fate, for Ziendriel dared not to go against the wisdom of the Warden. To many in Mirkwood, Velia was seen as cold and uncaring, hard and unbending, hardly the attributes associated with an Elf or a Healer. But, Ziendriel knew better. She knew there was a soft side to the one they called The Dragon; knew that beneath that surface was a deeply caring, gentle woman who had never forgotten what her purpose here in this world was as a Healer.

            And so, because of her, Ziendriel now sat in a cleared area in the gardens, sitting uncomfortably upon a chair that had been brought out for her. It was not the chair itself that brought upon her discomfort for it was of lovely workmanship and had the softest cushion for her backside. No, it was the fact that she was now sitting upon an outdoor dais, being shielded from the midmorning sun by elegant canopies, overlooking an arena that made her desire to be somewhere else.

            In truth, she had always thought these events to be ridiculous. It was an outlet for the lords of the land to puff themselves up with pride over their skills as archers and to boast of their skills in hand-to-hand combat. Even after her marriage to Legolas, Ziendriel had refused to attend any of the competitions that had been held; she did not think she would ever understand the desire of her husband or that of her friends for that matter, to make complete fools of themselves as they attempted to show up one another.

           "The competition has yet to begin, but already I find a frown upon your lovely face, daughter," King Thranduil teased, leaning over to her, "I fear my son did not jest when he spoke to me of your disregard for my events." His eyes twinkled with amusement.

            Despite his teasing, Ziendriel blushed. She knew how much enjoyment the king received from these events, but did not wish to offend him by speaking of her apparent dislike for them; her mother would be absolutely horrified at such boldness! Instead, she cleared her throat and drew herself upright. "I know not what you speak of , Father," she answered, looking at him innocently, "Disregard to see the display of our noble lords attempt to outshine one another? Never!" She smiled sweetly, and then batted her eyes at him.

            Thranduil burst into laughter, drawing the attention of several eyes to them, including Erundil's; he looked curiously at his mother and grandfather. "Legolas did not jest when he said your eyes are your greatest weapon!" he laughed, "I fear you now have me under the spell in which you were able to enchant my son!" He chuckled when she blushed again. From the very day she had married into his family, Thranduil had loved Ziendriel like a father to a cherished daughter. That love had been planted by the events preceding her marriage to Legolas, when her inner strength and beauty had been displayed despite the horrible treatment she had received at the hands of another. Thranduil had been amazed at such a showing of mercy and forgiveness for the offender by Ziendriel, as had the members of his cabinet, in which her own father was a part of. Thranduil had spoken many times to Jerec Yalith, his dearest friend and confidant, concerning Ziendriel, but Jerec always responded by declaring ignorance of where their daughter's attributes originated.

            "Legolas and the others are arriving," Ziendriel was now saying, quickly changing the subject. She pointed them out to her son, who had been taking everything in with his bright and curious eyes. A large group of Elven-lords were coming down the path to the right of the dais that led to the arena. All carried a bow in their hands for Thranduil had declared it a test of archery skills, but none looked more the part than her husband. He was dressed in his semi-formal tunics of dark green in honor of his brethren from Rivendell, but also in comfort for the occasion. His long blonde braids had been done with care and now shone in the sunlight.

            Legolas walked ahead of the group, his gifted bow from Lady Galadriel held firmly in one of his hands. Gragoc, Lorith and Jhad flanked him on either side, sharing in a conversation with their prince as they made their way to stand before the dais. They stopped a few feet away from the platform, while the others followed suit. There were fourteen lords present, seven to represent each land.

            Legolas looked to his father and was surprised when he saw Ziendriel sitting next to him. In all truth, he had not held out hope for his wife's attendance, not when she had so diligently attempted to worm her way out of it. He looked at her and smiled when she sheepishly shrugged. He would have to remember to later thank whoever it was that had convinced her to come.

            Thranduil stood from his seat, which immediately granted him the silence and attention of his people. "Welcome!" he greeted, jovially, "We are honored to have among us our brethren who hail from the land of Rivendell, in whose honor this tournament is held." A round of applause broke out, accompanied by cheering. "It has been determined that this show of friendly competition will be decided through that of archery, a most noble and honored tradition among Elves. As most tournaments decree, we will go through the rounds of elimination to determine those worthy enough to compete for the lovely reward." His eyes twinkled as he mentioned this reward, causing all the lords to become curious. He gestured to the maid beside him. "A kiss from the lovely Princess of Mirkwood."

            Ziendriel felt the blood drain from her face as she heard the cheers erupt from the crowd. Her eyes darted to the king, who only winked at her. She could only stare at him, her mouth slightly agape from the shock. She then turned to her husband and was even more surprised to find him grinning at her! She frowned at him, annoyed that he took pleasure from her discomfort. She stared back at him, then loudly said, "Then it is for the prince's sake that I hope he wins!" She smiled when she heard laughter ripple through the crowd. She simply stared at her husband, her eyes challenging.

            Legolas boldly winked at her, causing more laughter and cheers. He smiled, then turned away, taking his spot among the archers who were now taking their places. To the king's left, fourteen targets had been lined adjacently to the dais. Each lord now stood in their places, affording the king and princess a side view of each archer.

            Ziendriel watched as each lord notched an arrow to their bow and pulled their strings back. She felt her heart begin to beat faster as her eyes fell upon the form of her husband. Unconsciously, she leaned forward in her seat, an action that made her father-in-law smile.

            At the command, fourteen arrows were released and hit their targets in different degrees of skill. Each round held two attempts, after which the lowest scorer from each team was eliminated. Ziendriel glanced at the targets and was pleased when she saw Legolas' arrow buried deep in the center of the bullseye. She had not lied when she said she hoped her husband won; she knew all seven archers from Rivendell and was friends with them all, but did not feel entirely comfortable with rewarding them with a kiss. She knew without a doubt that Legolas would represent Mirkwood in the final round, for he was the uncontested best. It was the representative from Rivendell that she was not so sure about.

            The competition went on, eliminating Lorith in the fourth round, Gragoc in the fifth, and Jhad in the sixth. They did not look surprised when it was determined that Legolas would be competing for his wife's kiss. The finalist from Rivendell was Anárion, an Elf that Ziendriel had often spoken to during her time in the House of Elrond. He smiled and bowed to her and she returned the gesture. She was at least glad to know that should Legolas lose, she would not be kissing someone totally unknown to her.

            The two finalists took their stances once more, every eye in the crowd on them. Ziendriel felt her heart once again pick up speed and she clutched the skirt of her dress tightly in her fingers. She put her gaze upon her husband, watching as he took his time in notching his arrow. She watched him with the intensity of a hawk, almost missing the familiar roar in her ears as it rolled upon her…

            _Anárion_****_notched his arrow and pulled back his string, locking his body into a comfortable shooting position. The command was given and he released the string, allowing it to roll from his fingers. At the last possible second, his footing was lost upon a loose patch of soil, causing his aim to falter. Before he could correct himself, the arrow flew to his target, only to ricochet off the iron trivet it sat upon. At such an angle, the arrow shot off onto a new course, heading straight for the dais..._

Ziendriel started as she was pulled from her vision by the command for the archers to fire. She watched in horror, as Anárion's foot slipped, causing his aim to go high. She heard the noise his string made as his fingers released it, heard the arrow fly through the air with great speed. Her eyes followed the arrow as it headed towards the target, then widened when she saw the spark the arrowhead made as it bounced off the top of the stand. Realizing her vision was becoming a reality, Ziendriel instinctively stood, and threw herself at the king.

            Legolas watched as the events before him slowed down, his eyes following the wayward path of Anárion's misfortune. His own eyes widened in horror as he realized where the arrow now meant to strike and the actions his wife took at the same realization. He saw Ziendriel stand and throw herself across his father, knocking him over in his chair.

            "NO!" he heard himself scream, hearing the sickening thud noise as the arrow embedded itself in the back of Ziendriel's shoulder. He saw her body stiffen at the assault, heard the gasps and cries come from the crowd. He dropped his bow to the ground and sprinted over to the platform, just as the two hit the floor.

            Thranduil immediately sat up and gently cradled Ziendriel in his arms, careful to turn her over. He heard her sharp intake of breath and immediately mumbled an apology.  He saw her eyes filled with tears of pain and her mouth set in a slight frown. Legolas was immediately by his side, followed by Erundil, the fear clearly evident on their faces. Meanwhile Anárion stood uncomfortably behind them, being comforted by Jhad.

            Ziendriel looked at the three worriedly looking down upon her, then softly smiled through her pain. "Methinks it is Anárion who is need of your lessons, Legolas," she said, hoarsely, then tried to laugh. It came out as a slight groan.

            Despite himself, Legolas laughed. "And I think this is another attempt to discontinue yours!" he teased, smiling. It turned somber when she groaned again while trying to laugh. "Let me see," he told her, softly. He gently turned her onto her side while his father held her. He examined the wound for a moment, then said, "She will be alright, I think. But, we must get her to the House of Healing and quickly." He stood, taking his wife from Thranduil and carefully holding her in his arms. He quickly found his way onto the path that would lead him from the gardens and to the House. He carried her with ease, only pausing in his swift steps to make sure she was alright.

            "What happened?" Velia exclaimed when she saw the prince carrying the princess in. There was an arrow sticking out from behind the Ziendriel's right shoulder and her eyes were beginning to glaze over with pain.

            "A pure mishap," Legolas answered, setting her down upon one of the beds, "A wayward arrow." He placed his wife onto the bed, face first and pointed to the ailment.

            "Now do you see why I do not wish to attend these things?" Ziendriel demanded, her words muffled by her pillow, "I would desire to look upon the next anniversary of my life!"

            Velia clucked her tongue. "Hush now, child," she told her, "And let us see what needs to be done." She gently tore away the material that covered the wound and examined the shaft that protruded out from the skin. "It does not appear to be in very deep," she announced, "But it will take some time to remove the head."

            Legolas frowned. "How will you go about it?" he asked, worriedly. He had never experienced the removal of a foreign object from his body and did not doubt that it would be a very painful procedure. From her experiences, it appeared that Ziendriel had a high threshold for pain, but he was unsure in this matter; he was unsure anytime his wife and pain were grouped together.

            Velia saw his concern and gently smiled. "We will put her to sleep while the procedure is performed," she answered, reassuringly, "And the area around the wound will be numbed. She will not feel a thing, I promise." She saw him pause for a moment, and then sighed. He slowly nodded his consent.

            Ziendriel, in the meantime, said nothing. She buried her face deeper into the pillow, her fear keeping her quiet. Unbeknownst to her husband, she had seen such a procedure during her time in Rivendell. She had assisted Lord Elrond many times before being allowed to perform it on her own. Though her master had shown her the grace and gentleness it took, and although she has mastered it well, Ziendriel knew the dealings of such a procedure. It scared her to the point where the thought of being unconscious during the process did little to comfort her.

            "I believe there is a crowd you must attend to, milord," Velia suggested, nodding her head towards the front of the room. Through one of the large front windows, they could see a fairly-sized crowd of familiar faces had formed on the porch steps outside, murmuring among themselves.

            Legolas smiled apologetically to the Healers, then went over to his wife. He knelt beside her bed, brushing her hair away from her face. He chuckled when he saw her face was buried in the pillow. "_Meleth__," he whispered, tugging gently at her ear, "Ziendriel, our families have come and I must explain to them what needs to be done. I will be just a moment while I step outside." He moved to stand, but was startled when her hand lashed out and clutched his arm._

            Ziendriel turned quickly to him, aggravating her wound. Grinding her teeth against the sudden pain, she muttered, "Please, do not go, Legolas." She looked at him then, the fear shining in her green eyes, wet with unshed tears. Her bottom lip slightly trembled. "I-I am afraid," she whispered, clutching him tighter.

            Sima, another Healer, watched the exchange with sympathy. "If I may, milord," she offered, "I will speak to your family." When the prince nodded, she curtsied, then stepped out of the room.

            Legolas turned back to his wife, smiling gently at her. "There is nothing to be afraid of, _meleth_," he told her, taking her hand in his, "I am here with you." He softly pressed his lips to the back of her hand, never breaking his gaze from hers. With his free hand, he brushed away a silken tendril of hair that had fallen across her eyes, a gesture to distract her from her fear. "Do you remember the first time we met?" he asked, toying with her hair.

            She smiled. "I seem to remember a certain prince scaring a certain maiden when he came upon her unexpectedly in the gardens," she replied, trying hard not to giggle.

            Legolas rolled his eyes. "And I recall that I have apologized numerous times for it!" he shot back, smiling as his thoughts turned back to that day.

            Ziendriel saw his smile soften as the memories of their first meeting washed over him. "What of it?" she prompted, gently.

            He turned his eyes back to her, somewhat jolted from his thoughts. "I remember how the sunlight danced upon you that day," he answered, kissing her hand once more, "It made your hair shine like the light dancing upon the rushing waters of the river. And for a moment I truly believed that your hair was the color of the sun."

            "Were you disappointed when you realized it was not?" she asked.

            Legolas shook his head. "Nay," he whispered, "For it reminds me of the nights that I was able to glance clearly at the stars, uninterrupted and undisturbed. Those are the times that have brought much peace to my heart; much like the soothing you bring my soul with your presence."

            Ziendriel's eyebrow rose playfully. "If I was not injured and already upon this bed," she teased, "I would say that was a ploy to get me into yours, milord!" She heard Velia, who was standing nearby, snicker and smiled.

            Legolas chuckled. "Not just yet, wife," he replied, "But soon." He winked at her.

            Velia walked over to them, shaking her head as she did so. "Alright, that is enough of that!" she scolded, swatting the prince gently on the shoulder, "Why if I did not know better, I would say you two are newlywed!"

            "For a Healer you are strangely uncomfortable with the talk of begetting little Elflings," Legolas teased the older Elf, then chuckled when he saw a blush creep across her cheeks. He was one of the select few that was allowed to get away with teasing her, although it hadn't been an assured privilege. It had taken about two years before she had finally warmed up to the idea of knowing the prince so closely, but the friendship had eventually won out.

            Velia swatted him again, then said, "Kindly excuse me, milord. I must administer this sleeping draught to your wife." She waited until he moved away, then pressed a small cup to Ziendriel's lips.

            She swallowed it, then immediately scowled. "It is no wonder many refuse it!" she muttered, "I must repent of my cruelty to those whom I have given that awful draught!" She scrunched up her nose, causing Legolas to laugh.

            "It will take a moment for the draught to work," Velia told Legolas before walking away. He nodded and returned to her side, this time sitting in the chair beside the bed.

            They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, before Ziendriel said, "Tell me again of the fairy lights you saw in Lothlorien, Legolas." It was said in a state of drowsiness and her eyes were beginning to close.

            He smiled and leaned over to kiss her forehead. "They appeared right above our tents as we in the Fellowship attempted to sleep after our ordeal in Moria," he began, his thoughts once again drifting, "They fluttered high above us, their wings as silver as the moon above…."

            Velia stood frozen in her spot, staring at the back of the unconscious princess. Though she was startled by the scene before her, a slight frown crossed her lips. The healing salve held in her hand was forgotten as she continued to stare at the smooth skin of her patient.

            The procedure to remove the arrowhead had gone smoothly and quickly. Not much time had elapsed between the opening incision and the removal of the piece of metal, which was always considered a blessing to those who wished to help and not hinder. However, it was the events after the head had been removed that had startled the Healers involved.

            Velia had removed the arrowhead and given it to Sima, who had assisted, to dispose of it. Both had turned away from Ziendriel's sleeping form for a mere second, only to turn back and witness something neither had seen before: instantaneous healing. They had both watched in surprise as the muscle and skin pulled together, fusing themselves as they had once been. A small flash of light burst under the line of incision, then slowly faded away, revealing the smooth and unscarred skin of Ziendriel's back.

            "What has just happened?" Sima whispered, nervously glancing at her colleague. Her hands were visibly shaking as she nervously wrung them in front of her.

            Velia remained silent, still staring at the unblemished skin. The frown on her face deepened and her eyes were lost in thought. She muttered something that was incomprehensible to Sima's ears, but did not bother to elaborate. All she could think of was that Legolas was out in the main room of the House and that was a most fortunate thing for him at the moment.

            "Velia?" Sima prompted, bringing the other Elf out of her thoughts.

            She turned her eyes to the worried face of Sima, then shook her head. "Speak of this to no one," she directed, her voice low, "Not even to the other Healers, nor the prince or princess."

            "Is this something of misfortune?" Sima asked, purely frightened now.

            "It will depend upon whom you ask," Velia murmured, smiling wryly. Louder, she said, "I will put a bandage on it and remove it in a few days time. You must corroborate my instructions that the bandage is not to be removed, understand? I must have time to counsel and research." She saw Sima nod, then sent her off to report to the prince waiting patiently out in the main room. Once the Healer had left, Velia turned back to her patient. "Can it be?" she murmured in wonder.

            Laying in a bed in one of the private rooms in the House of Healing, Ziendriel, Princess of Mirkwood and daughter of Jerec and Lilia Yalith, , dreamt….

           _She ran across the forest floor, heard her heavy breathing echoing in her ears. The trees hid the sun from her, only allowing a small patch here and there to fall. The forest was silent, with the exception of her running feet and her panting. Her eyes wildly looked around but found nothing except the trees._

_            Behind her she could hear the yells and cries of those who pursued her. She dared not to turn to see the sight behind her and instead attempted to run faster. Her legs and feet refused, screaming for a rest. She knew that she could not and pressed on. Her ears twitched as they caught the sounds of her pursuers gaining upon her._

_            In the next moment, she felt hands grab her roughly around the arms, felt her legs fly out from under her. She fell back against the cold, hard armor of her captor, and gasped when she was spun around to face him._

_            Cold, black eyes met hers, stilling the blood in her veins. She opened her mouth to speak, but found no words were forthcoming. She stared at the man that gripped her tightly, waiting for him to speak. He was unfamiliar, but in a sense familiar to her, and of the race of Men. She continued to stare at him, only to realize his lips moved as if to speak to her._

_            The realization brought upon her a curious effect, for she next felt as if she was now watching the scene through the eyes of a bystander and not her own. She could now see the Man scowling clearly at the Elf-maiden he held, his face contorted with rage as he screamed at her. The Elf merely stood there, simply staring at him as he ranted. She shook her head when his lips paused, which caused the anger to return to his face. He wildly grabbed at her neck, pulling something away from her. When it came loose from her, he stared at the object he now held._

_            She could see it was a necklace, reflecting the light that suddenly fell upon it. Without stepping forward to peer closely, she saw a pair of silver hands grasping a glass orb. Its intricate design was beautiful, yet did not hold the interest of the __Man.__ Disgustedly, he threw the necklace down upon the ground, then quickly drew his sword. She watched with growing horror as he raised it high above his head, only to bring it down upon the Elf-maiden in one quick motion...._

Ziendriel screamed as the image flashed before her eyes, her body bolting upright in her bed. She wildly glanced around the room, gasping as she did so. Legolas was by her side in an instant, the book he had been leafing through lay forgotten on the floor. Velia also came barging in the room, her eyes wide with concern.

            "Ziendriel?" he said, gathering her carefully into his arms in fear of hurting her wound. He felt her tense for a moment, and then relaxed in his arms in recognition. "It was just a dream, _meleth_," he soothed, kissing her forehead lightly, "Just a dream." He glanced at Velia, who nodded. After just a second of hesitation, she stepped out of the room, knowing the princess was in good hands.

            She let a small sob escape her. "It did not feel like one," she whispered, the image of the slain Elf floating back to her eyes. She had been that Elf, but at the same time, she had not. The thought confused her and only annoyed her state of distress.

            "Well you tell me of it?" her husband asked. She looked at him, startled at such a request. He saw her hesitation and was puzzled by it. They had always shared their thoughts with one another as conversation had always been easy between them. Why the reluctance?

            Ziendriel felt light-headed at the thoughts that flew through her mind. She desperately wanted to tell him of this, but she was afraid that by doing so, the matter of her visions would be revealed also. She did not feel ready to do that just yet nor did she not want Legolas to worry about her. Instead, she weakly smiled and said, "I-I cannot remember. The images have left."

            Legolas stared at her for a moment, unsure of what to do. For a moment he believed that Ziendriel was not telling him everything; that she did remember the images of her frightening dream but did not wish to divulge them. That thought, however, dissipated when she smiled reassuringly at him. He drew her into his arms once more, tucking her head under his chin. He began to slightly rock her body as one might soothe a babe, but he did so with an expression of complete bafflement.


	6. Chapter 5: Adrianna

**Chapter 5**

            Life returned to normal once the bandages covering Ziendriel's wound was removed and the envoy had set off for their journey back to Rivendell. Both incidents were pushed to the back of many minds as the daily routines and responsibilities once again rose with the sun. The excitement from the gossip-worthy incidents concerning the princess was now dying down, much to her relief. _You would think that ten years of being a princess would have cured my fear of attention, she thought to herself, b__ut it has not. If anything, it has made me a bit more self-conscious!_

            Her life as a princess was not much different than that of a noble lady, with the exception of more servants to wait on her and the eyes of the entire kingdom watching whenever she ventured out. She was still free to volunteer her time as a Healer under Velia and Legolas had insisted upon the continuation of her lessons. The palace staff had questioned the schedule she put herself through after marrying Legolas: she rose with the sun, hurriedly eating her breakfast, then spending most of her time in the House of Healing. An hour before dusk was used for her lessons, where many of the servants had observed her practicing her archery and swordplay in the gardens with the prince. It was common knowledge that this was done to insure her safety, but many still wondered why she would put herself through such a routine.

            It was only after the birth of Erundìl that she allowed more time for herself. Her time in the House had been reduced to almost nothing, being called upon only when she was absolutely needed. And Legolas had allowed her lessons to cease until she felt it appropriate to continue. She had been grateful for the leniency shown, for she had very much enjoyed the time she had had with her son during his early stages. Tiri had been a tremendous help also, tending to the babe when Ziendriel had become too exhausted or overwhelmed. She had always been there at the most opportune time, allowing the princess the relief that all mothers needed from time to time.

            As a princess, she was allowed all the time in the world for herself, but did not really accept it. Whenever she felt she had been sitting too long, guilt would pass over her from the knowledge that some Elf somewhere in the kingdom was laboring hard to provide for his or her family, denied the carefree airs of royalty. That thought always got her to her feet and searching for something to calm her idle hands.

            Today was such a day. Since the envoy's departure almost two weeks ago, Ziendriel had been confined to her bed by her husband. He had insisted she rest and when she had protested in the tiniest bit, he had posted two servants at the door. Her meals had been brought in by Tiri, who always wore a sympathetic smile for her mistress. Despite her mistress' adamant assurances of returning health, Tiri was inclined to obey the prince.

            For the millionth time that day, Ziendriel sighed in boredom. Her entire body was overrun by restlessness and the pacing she had done did not help. She stood from her bed and quietly walked over to the large bookcase at the opposite end of the room, her eyes skimming over the titles of volumes that sat there. It was a habit of hers to reach for a book whenever she found herself bored, something she no doubt picked up during her time in Rivendell. Lord Elrond had encouraged her towards literature, always offering the use of his study for her enquiring mind. If she was not with him, he could always depend on finding her in the same spot in his courtyard, her nose buried in a book 

            Staring at the titles, but not really reading them, Ziendriel once again sighed. Leaving the room was out of the question; the servants posted there would no doubt follow her if she was able to leave or they would run off to tell Legolas and she would be in serious trouble then! No, her only option was to remain in her bedchambers, slowly falling to insanity.

            Her eyes suddenly fell upon the open doorway that led out onto the balcony. "I could always attempt to climb down," she mused, making her way over. She stepped out into the clear air and glanced down. She shook her head when she realized how far up she was. "If I did not die from the fall, Legolas would surely kill me for trying!" she muttered, smiling a little.

            She left the balcony and returned to her bed, heavily sitting upon it. She felt ready to pull her hair from her head for that was what this "bed rest" was doing to her! She leaned back against the mass of soft pillows at the head of the bed, then turned her eyes to look out the window.

            It was then that her eyes noticed the small, leather-bound book sitting upon her nightstand. Curiously, she reached over to grab it, then smiled in delight when she recognized what it was: her journal. From the time she had been able to write, she had always kept a journal; there had been no exception. The one she held now was one of the several she had brought with her into the palace after her marriage; the previous volumes were stashed safely at the bottom of her armoire.

            Clutching the book to her bosom with the thought of salvation, Ziendriel walked over to the single desk along the wall of the room. The desk was Legolas' and was somewhat of a family heirloom, for it had been given to King Thranduil by his father, then passed on to Legolas. Someday, it would sit in Erundìl's room. She sat down and scooted her chair closer, then carefully opened the book. The last entry had been the day before the archery competition, when she had been accidentally shot with an arrow. Since the arrow had struck her right shoulder and she used that arm to write, it was understandable as to why that was the date of her last entry.

            She carefully opened the jar of ink that sat in the tray at one corner, then grabbed a quill, testing her hand as she did so. There were no shooting pains in her arm or shoulder, which greatly relieved her for she had been hesitant to try anything concerning her arm. In fact, there really hadn't been any pain since Velia had removed the arrowhead. She had thought it had been due to the numbing salve the Healers had used, but as the days passed into one week, and no pain, she had questioned Velia.

            "I would think you would be relieved that there was no lingering pain," was all the older Elf said, though there was a peculiar tone to her voice when she did so. It was something Ziendriel could not place, but she did not press the issue.

            It had been strange, but even stranger was the fact that her skin showed no signs of a wayward arrow once the bandages were removed. It was the situation with her previous scars all over again and it confused her greatly! She knew people of her race were blessed with the ability to heal quicker than Men or Dwarves, but the swiftness that she seemed to hold puzzled even the Healers.

            She sat thinking of this aspect, chewing on her bottom lip thoughtfully. She was still in that position when Tiri entered the room, stopping beside her and curtseying. "Milady, I bring you word of a summons," she announced.

            This jolted the princess from her thoughts, for she snapped her eyes to the servant. "Summons?" she repeated, "From whom?" She put her quill down and shut her journal before placing it in the desk drawer.

            "The King, milady," Tiri answered, "He wishes to speak to you." She helped her mistress from her seat, then hurried over to her armoire. She threw open its doors and quickly selected an appropriate dress.

            "Did he give a reason?" Ziendriel asked, slipping off the simple dress she had begged Legolas to allow her to wear; he had wanted her to stay in her nightdress, but she had refused.

            Tiri shook her head. "What I do know is that a message was delivered just moments ago from a courier bearing the banner of Rivendell," she answered. She stepped behind the princess, ready to slip the dress over her head when she stopped. "That is curious," she murmured, her eyes rooted to the small of her mistress' back.

            Ziendriel glanced at her over her shoulder. "What is?" she asked.

            Tiri lightly fingered a spot in the area and said, "It looks as if you have some sort of mark here, milady. Like a birthmark of some kind." She continued to stare at.

            "What does it look like?" Ziendriel asked, for she had never known the mark to exist; her parents had never mentioned it to her.

            "That is the curious thing, mistress," came Tiri's reply, "It looks distinctly like a pair of hands, pressed together in prayer."

            Almost ridiculously, Ziendriel tried to twist her body to see, but failed. She laughed at herself, then gave up. "It would do well if I hurry," she told Tiri, "I will have Legolas look at it later."

            Tiri blushed at the insinuated intimacy, then hurriedly threw the dress over Ziendriel's head. After adjusting and knotting the simple waist tie of the dark green dress, Tiri immediately ran a brush through the princess' hair until it was free of knots and shone in the light. She pulled the hair away from her mistress' face and twisted the strands loosely, then pinned it against the back of her head. Tiri smiled at her work then curtsied. "If I may accompany you to the throne room, milady?" she asked.

            Ziendrie nodded, excited at the idea of leaving the room, even under such circumstances as those of a summons from the king. She followed Tiri out of the room, almost teasingly sticking her tongue out at the servants who served as her guards, but refrained from doing so. Instead she brightly smiled at them, then continued to follow her handmaiden through the halls of the palace.

            Moments later, they reached the doors that led to the throne room and waited to be announced. Ziendriel felt the familiar rise of fear in her chest and suddenly panicked. She knew the matter concerned Adrianna Roseleaf, but in essence, she truly did not know the reason for her summons. Tiri saw this and gently gave her hand a squeeze of reassurance.

            The doors suddenly opened, allowing them entry into the cavernous room. Except for the dais that held the king's throne and the delicately carved, wooden chairs located at the left of the platform (which housed the royal cabinet), the room was quite empty. The floor had been scrubbed and now reflected the sunlight streaming in from the windows high above them, accentuating the centuries old pillars that proudly gave strength to the domed ceiling. The room was not a cold place, though its size would deem it to be so, but a warm and inviting one that many were eager to come to when summoned.

            As was his custom, Legolas stood beside his father's throne. He watched as his wife was escorted into the room, immediately noting the change in her as she walked: the way her shoulders pulled back confidently, her eyes more alert than they did that morning. He knew she had been miserable being confined to their bedchambers for the last several days, but was convinced that it had been for her own good. She had, after all, been injured and she had always told him that rest was the best remedy for an ailments. He had even restricted her time with Erundìl, which had not suited them well at all! In fact, his son was still a bit upset with him for it and did not mind the opportunity to tell him so if given the chance. Seeing her now, Legolas scolded himself for not allowing her out sooner.

            Ziendriel and Tiri stopped before the bottom step of the dais, then curtsied. Afterwards, Tiri stepped back and off to the side of her mistress out of duty and respect. Ziendriel smiled at her before the servant averted her eyes to the floor.

            Thranduil's entire cabinet was present, including her father and brother-in-law. There were several other faces that she recognized, while others did not register in her mind. Jhad was there, serving in his station as a representative of the king's guard, while Gragoc had accompanied him. Ziendriel looked curiously at them all, noticing the grave faces each one wore. She waited to be addressed by the king.

            "We have called you here regarding a message that was delivered today from Rivendell," Thranduil began, his voice rumbling slightly, "Lord Elrond has sent us word of the details concerning the return of Lady Adrianna Roseleaf to our lands."

            Ziendriel merely nodded, for she did not trust herself to speak. Although the members of the cabinet had agreed to her idea of turning the crazed mind over to Lord Elrond, she knew that many had found the crimes committed to be inexcusable.

            "Another parchment was included with Lord Elrond's," Thranduil continued, gesturing to Jhad. He waited until Jhad had handed Ziendriel the scroll in question, then added, "It is from Lady Roseleaf, addressed specifically to you."

            Ziendriel glanced at him, the puzzlement in her eyes. She then glanced at Legolas, and was not surprises when she noticed his frown.  After their argument the day of the arrival of the Rivendell envoy, then their talk later that evening, she had not expected his forgiveness for Adrianna to be granted overnight; it would be a long process that her husband would need to endure, but she was confident that he would eventually find the peace his heart needed. She turned back to the scroll in her hands and quickly opened it, reading the words printed there:

            _Dearest Ziendriel,_

_               I do not know the words to start for I know words written will not be able to express all that needs to be said. It is with gratitude that I write this, for it is truly gratitude that I have in my heart for you. Lord Elrond has assured me that I am now free from the disease that clouded my mind all those years ago, during which time I inflicted great pain and suffering upon you. There will never be enough words for me to convey my deepest regret over such a grave matter._

_            It is with that thought that I humbly request your presence in Rivendell, that I may be able to speak with you concerning this. I fear that once my return to Mirkwood is known, I will never be afforded a moment of your time. May I suggest a departure date of ten days from the arrival of this message? It will allow your response the time to travel from Mirkwood to Rivendell, and I will only expect your arrival in the customary time._

_            Although understandable if you do not desire to speak with, I hope that my request is granted._

            It was signed by Adrianna at the bottom of the paper, ending her message. Ziendriel stared at the message in her hands, carefully repeating in her mind the words she had read to herself. She looked up, blushing when she realized everyone was staring curiously at her.

            "What does it say, milady?" Legolas asked from atop the dais.

            Ziendriel cleared her throat nervously. "Lady Adrianna requests my presence in Rivendell before her return to Mirkwood," she answered, her voice clear despite her nervousness, "She wishes to speak to me in the privacy the House of Elrond affords for she knows such a liberty will not be granted here."

            This was met with murmurs among the lords, some clearer than others. Among those that remained silent was Adrianna's father, Lord Roseleaf. Ziendriel had befriended the lord and his wife after their daughter's departure ten years ago. It was not a common friendship, this relationship between the victim and the family of the offender, but Ziendriel knew that Lord and Lady Roseleaf had not been responsible for Adrianna's decisions and actions. They had many times expressed their fears to Ziendriel of the impact of their daughter's actions on them, and she had tried to soothe them as best she could.  Their fears had not been unfounded for there were some in the kingdom who had become less friendly to the Roseleaf family. It was ridiculous the airs that some of the people gave themselves concerning the matter; in the end, she could only hope her example of forgiveness could be seen and accepted by others.

            Encouraged by the small and sudden smile given by Lord Roseleaf, Ziendriel announced, "I am inclined to agree with Lady Roseleaf. Many of you know my position regarding her and the situation; know you also that it has not changed over the course of ten years. I would request that I be granted to travel to Rivendell to speak privately with the lady as she has asked."

            Legolas frowned, not liking the idea at all. He had promised Ziendriel that he would try to resolve himself with Adrianna, but the thought of his wife sitting in the same room with the maiden that had tortured and taunted her did not sit well with him. Adrianna had stripped Ziendriel of her freedom and of her rights when she had held her captive; she had played with those without regard for his wife, taking them away when she had had no right to do so. The thought still infuriated him and he could feel the heat rising in his body as he dwelled upon it. 

            Ziendriel glanced at her husband, knowing the thoughts that now ran through his mind. The rigid stance of his body told her of this, even as the storm of emotions that raged across his face showed his displeasure of such thoughts. She kept her eyes to him with the hope that he would look upon her.

            He did so a moment later, almost reluctantly, as if he knew she wished for him to glance at her. When his blue met her green, he regretted it, for he could see the wisdom that she held in her eyes. As he looked deep into her eyes, he knew that she now pleaded with him to travel to Rivendell, for it was the best solution to do in a matter such as this. It sometimes amazed him, the knowledge and maturity that she possessed, for she was a few centuries younger than he and he had always prided himself on knowing much of the world. Ziendriel was living proof that sometimes, it was not age that brought this maturity, but experience.

            Thranduil turned to his son, noting the silent exchange between him and his wife. "What say you, my son?" he asked, for it was ultimately Legolas who would give the permission to go. Ziendriel was his wife and his was the right to pass judgment on matters concerning her.

            Legolas glanced at his father, then to his wife. Her head was now bowed and her hands nervously writhed in front of her. He saw that she was uncertain of his decision. He cleared his throat and announced, "The princess will be allowed to go." He saw her head snap up in surprise, her eyes wildly searching his. "Granted," he added before she could say a word, "her handmaiden and a small group of representatives of the king's guard accompany her."

            Ziendriel eagerly nodded her agreement and smiled her pleasure at her husband. He returned the gesture willingly, then turned back to his father. Thranduil nodded to him, knowing what such a decision meant to both his children (for he truly did think of Ziendriel as his daughter): Legolas was now on the path to forgiving Adrianna Roseleaf, a journey that would soon bring peace to his heart.

            The House of Elrond sat among the beautiful wonders of nature in a land called Rivendell. Its beginnings had been for the sole purpose of a refuge for the Elves, a place for rest and help if sought. Encased in a valley that cut through the mountains, Imladris (as it was also known) was surrounded by the waters of streams and a gently falling waterfall, both of which brought life to the earth around it. Trees surrendered their leaves to the wind in order for new ones to grow and color blossomed from flowers and various plant life grew from the ground to the skies. It was here that many took refuge or rest, some who were not of the race of Elves: Men, Hobbits, even Dwarves had entered the realm of Rivendell and had rested their weary bodies. Those who came here in peace were welcomed and never turned away.

            It was here that Adrianna Roseleaf had spent ten years of her life, a small amount of time measured against an Elf's immortality, but significant nonetheless. She loved it here, had grown to love it and felt envy for those who had the opportunity to grow in such a place. Everything was sacred here: from the stone statutes that had been carved with love, to the very soil she walked upon, for it brought life to Rivendell. With each passing day, she felt alive in this place, this garden of immense beauty. The sun that shone upon it was like a symbol of hope for her, for it showed all things clearly in the beauty of Imladris, an idea she now adopted in her life. She was grateful for her time spent here, but was saddened to know that it was drawing to a close.

            For the very reason that she had been brought to Rivendell, the same was drawing her away from it. Adrianna had not always been the happy, care-free Elf she now was; no, before her time here, she had been a completely different maiden. Back then, she had been a resident of Mirkwood, the kingdom just over the mountains to the east, and the proud and fair daughter of Lord Roseleaf, counselor to King Thranduil. She had been counted among the most beautiful maidens of the kingdom, a place granted by her flowing mane of blonde hair and dark blue eyes. She had been told by many that her face was definitely pleasing to look upon and had received many kisses from the lords there. Her life had been perfect, or should have been, for she had the love of her parents, her friends and even the attention of the male Elves.

            But, in her mind, it was not. Another emotion ruled her altogether, an emotion that perhaps came from being the only child of her parents, for it was envy that drove her actions day by day. It had started when she had been an Elfling, that much she was sure of. She remembered those days because it was then that the true nature of being fair and beautiful had been revealed: It did not guarantee happiness. Unlike those who were also fair and beautiful, Adrianna had an interest in the games of Elven youth. There were games of tag to be run, hiding places to seek and riverbeds to explore. Those had always intrigued her, but she usually found herself alone when attempting them. No one invited her along for these adventures; no one offered her a hand or a touch of friendship. It had nearly broken her tender heart to realize this, watching as other Elflings ran by in groups of laughing, happy faces, but her mama had always reassured her that as she grew, that aspect of her life would change.

            And, indeed it did. For as she grew, her beauty had grown more apparent, causing the males of the kingdom to flock towards her. She had also earned a spot in a circle of an elite group of maidens, all considered fair like herself. Though their beauty gave them a common ground, it did not make for a stable friendship between them all. Underlying tones of sarcasm and mockery laced their daily conversations with one another, and more often than naught, one would be singled out as the others pounced upon her. There was no remorse when it happened, for the next day, another would be the victim and the one previous could join the others. This did not count for the fierce competition the maidens were forever running against each other. Their titles of beauty were not enough; it was as if an unspoken rule dictated they compete to see who it was that could claim to be the fairest of them all.

            There had been no rules in a competition such as this, for they had all agreed that "all was fair in love and war." And so began the scheming and manipulations to gain the attention of the Elven lords, regardless of whether the marked lord was already enchanted by another. Unconsciously they had decided that stealing away the hearts of one another's men was an ultimate testament of one's beauty.

            Adrianna shook her head as she remembered those days, ashamed that she had taken part in such activities. It had been foolish to measure themselves against their abilities to seduce a number of men and even more foolish to think of Prince Legolas as the ultimate prize. She did not know how they had come about to that conclusion, but all appeared to agree that to have the prince fall in love with one of them would be such an honor.

            In truth, Legolas had always held her heart. Even as a child, Legolas had been a fair one, with his sun-kissed hair and intense blue eyes that made many, old and young alike, swoon from his gaze. Adrianna had not been excluded from such a reaction and had found herself falling hopelessly infatuated with the prince. As the years went by, he grew into a strong and graceful man, tall and lithe, but powerful in his abilities as a warrior. Many a maid had turned out to see him compete in his father's tournaments, never surprised when he was claimed victor. He was everything an Elven-maid could dream of in a lover and more. It was thoughts such as these of the prince that, through disillusion on her part, had led her to commit a crime so horrendous in the eyes of others.

            Adrianna now made her way down to the gardens, her thoughts refusing to cease. It was because of a message that had been delivered this morning that all of these memories were now assaulting her. Word had been given of the Princess of Mirkwood's agreement to meet with her here in Rivendell. When Lord Elrond had told her of the news, Adrianna had felt a flutter of excitement in her heart.

            Taking a seat under one of the tall, willowy trees, Adrianna once again allowed her thoughts to overtake her. To anyone who had any knowledge of the events that led to her departure from Mirkwood to Imladris, it would seem foolish for Adrianna to be eagerly anticipating the arrival of the princess, for it was because of her actions against Ziendriel that had ensured her departure.

            _Though it seemed to be a nightmare, I can no longer deny the horrible actions I took against the princess, she thought, gazing up into the sky, _I will never forget the day nor the emotions I felt when Lord Elrond admitted that I had indeed kidnapped and tortured Ziendriel. I know now how it feels to be crushed under a large boulder or something close to it!__

            When the disease from her mind had finally lifted, Adrianna had felt as if she had just wakened from a long slumber. Her head had felt stuffed and groggy, while her body felt heavy and immovable. She had been confused at first to her whereabouts, but Lord Elrond had answered her questions and reassured her, only stating that she had been sick for quite some time and been sent to his care. It had only been when her strength was slowly recovered did he tell her of the circumstances of her presence in his house.

            Her memory supported his statement by sending her foggy images of what she had done. She had been horrified, to say the least, to witness such an emotionally detached attack on the bound and beaten Ziendriel and the attempt to take her life. And why? Ziendriel, not Adrianna, held the heart of Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood; at the time the realization had been both heartbreaking and infuriating for her. Lord Elrond had not been flippant when he said she had been sick; the memories that were recovered day by day only spoke the truth, as did the lord of Imladris.

            "I do not know how," she now murmured to herself, still gazing up into the sky, "but I will find a way to repent of this. Lord Elrond has told me that Ziendriel forgave me my actions long ago. But it does not mean I have nothing to repent for." She thought of her parents and the turmoil of emotions they had no doubt experienced; the Whitesun family who held her responsible for their son Grien, who was now mute. Elrond had tried valiantly to cure him, but in the end, the young Elf's mind had proven it was behind help. Grien had returned to Mirkwood and his family shortly after three years in Rivendell. That had been the last she had heard of him or his family.

            The list went on and on, making Adrianna's head spin. She certainly had a lot to accomplish before she could be at peace, and knew that it would not be an easy task. _Especially if the others are not as forgiving as Ziendriel,_ she thought, sadly.

            Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sounds of hooves trotting along the path leading up to the main hall. Adrianna quickly stood and peered down from her vantage point above the path. She saw the guards were escorting two strangers atop horses towards the hall. She peered closer at the strangers, her keen Elven eyes surprised when they were revealed to be Men! She watched them closely, taking in their dark hair, scraggily and wind-blown from their travels, their worn and faded clothing that pronounced them foreigners. The crest emblazed upon the saddles of their steeds was not familiar to her, but she guessed Lord Elrond would know.

            She wondered what the Men were doing here, for there had been many years since the presence of Men had been last felt in Rivendell. The escort of the guards told her that the Men had not been expected, which only further piqued Adrianna's curiosity. In all her time here, she had never known Lord Elrond to turn anyone away from this refuge, not when they willingly sought him. With her curiosity getting the better of her, Adrianna lifted the hem of her dress and quickly ran back to the main hall. Lord Elrond would no doubt grant these Men an audience and she knew the perfect spot for curious ears to listen unnoticed.


	7. Chapter 6: Journey

**Chapter 6**

            Holding tight to the reins of the horse she rode upon, Adrianna kept her eyes on the unseen path before her. There were no markers to help her along her journey, but she knew the direction in which she now headed was the correct one. The map that she had tucked away into her cloak assured that she was traveling in the right direction and she trusted it, as it came from the study of Lord Elrond. The map had been drawn by a scribe under the careful direction of the lord and Adrianna knew of the knowledge he held concerning the areas surrounding Rivendell.

            She slowed her horse to a small trot, realizing the air around her getting a bit thinner. The ground was also beginning to slope at a sharper angle and Adrianna knew she was reaching the mountain's higher altitudes. The air was unrestrained here, forcefully whipping about her cloak and dress, as well as her hair. She knew she must look a fright, had she the privilege of a mirror, but pushed that thought immediately out of her head.

            _I have more pressing matters to think upon this day, _she thought, _Such as what Lord Elrond will do when he has discovered a map, a horse and several wraps of lembas missing from his house. And I, foolish Elf that I am, conveniently absent from the situation!_

            She had not done all these things to spite the Lord of Imladris nor to throw his kindness to her back into his face. Adrianna was doing this for him and hoped he would understand in the long run, for this was her opportunity to return such compassion that she felt could never be repaid.

            She had been traveling for nearly five days now, but was disheartened to know that her progress was not what it should be. She had never ridden upon a horse before her stay in Rivendell, and although the lessons she had been given were helpful, she still found herself clutching the reigns of her horse with the prayer that she might not fall off. Her inexperience was her hindrance, which frustrated her beyond words!

            _I must reach Mirkwood before those Men do!_ She thought, grimly, as she silently urged her steed forward_, I must reach…Legolas!_

            Elrond, Lord of Rivendell, silently stared at the empty desk before him, his dark eyes contemplating the situation. His mouth was set in a thin, grim line and he did not look pleased at the moment. Many thoughts swirled through his wizened mind, giving him no peace as he dwelled upon each one.

            Adrianna Roseleaf had disappeared, along with one of the horses from the stables. One of the servants had said she had gone for a ride to clear her head, but that had been five days ago. She had not returned and neither had the horse. He knew that it was because of the audience with the Men of Yelren that Adrianna had left. It was no secret that she had been once again listening on matters that were not of her concern, but had not given it much thought. He never imagined she would take the actions she did.

            The Men of Yelren had been pleasant enough upon their arrival to his hall. They had bowed and greeted him with reverence and respect, then proceeded to hail him and the Elves with praise concerning the past events of Middle-Earth. When the pleasantries had been exchanged, the Men had gotten straight to the point….

**FLASHBACK**

_            "We have mentioned that we are Men from the land of Yelren," the one named Tiruc said, "It is a small kingdom near the borders of Mordor, south of the great city of Minas Tirith. We come to you to plead for your help." His dark eyes gazed upon the Elven lord, sitting upon his throne._

_            Elrond had heard of this kingdom of old, heard of its splendor and prosperousness. "You are a long way from home, milord," he told them, "To come here to Rivendell to ask such a request is needless when so many others surround your land and would no doubt grant you that which you ask of."_

_            "It is not the help of Men that we desire, milord," Tiruc answered, "I am told only the magic of the Elves will suffice in our situation."_

_            This intrigued Elrond. "Oh?" he questioned, one brow arched, "We Elves posses powers that mainly extend to the purpose of healing. Tell me then, Tiruc, son of Moran, what 'magic' does the race of Elves posses that would benefit that of your people?"_

_            Tiruc drew back his shoulders and straightened his back to stand proudly before him. "We have evidence that your people posses a power even greater than that of the Dark Lord who has been diminished," he answered, "Our people have long suffered from famine and poverty, going unnoticed by those who neighbor our lands. We are a dying people, Lord Elrond, a dying people who only wish to be counted once more among the Men of Middle-Earth."_

_            "What may I offer you that it might help?" Elrond asked. Though his faith in Men had waned as of late, he was not ignorant to the plight of some. These Men had traveled far with the hope that Elves would assist them when their brethren had not._

_            Tiruc cast his gaze upon the Elven-lord, his eyes filled with determination. "Give us the power of Aìnu, once great sorceress of the Elves," he answered._

_            Elrond felt his body jolt in his seat as his eyes flew to the face of the man before him. "What is this that you request?" he demanded, the frown already forming on his face._

_            "Give us the power of the sorceress Aìnu," Tiruc repeated, "We know of its existence and know of the possibilities it can give to our people. We ask for it not to corrupt ourselves with greed or lust of power, but to simply restore our people and our lands to their once existence."_

_            Elrond stared at him, the disbelief on his face. These Men knew not what they asked, what responsibility, what consequences would surely come upon them if given this power. He shook his head. "It cannot be done," he told them, "While I do not deny that the power once walked among the Elves, it has been lost many, many centuries ago."_

_            Tiruc's eyes flashed momentarily and his body stiffened. "We have it on good authority that it has not," he returned, his voice now hard and grating, "The power, as it has been recorded, was taken and given to the Elves in the form of a babe of your kind."_

_            Elrond once again shook his head. "As I have stated before, Tiruc, son of Moran," he said, firmly, "Your request cannot be granted. This power is beyond the race of Men."_

_            "You would do this while my people slowly fade into the memory of Middle-Earth?" Tiruc demanded, not bothering to conceal his anger, "While you sit upon your throne in splendor, my people sit upon the dirt and filth that covers our land!" He pointed an accusing finger at the Elf, his body shaking with anger. "It is a power that should have been given to Men!" he continued, his face now contorted with rage, "Men are the true lords of this world; it is Men who will rule over it, not Elves! Too long have you and your kind hindered and interfered with the rulings of Men!"_

**END FLASHBACK**

            Elrond shook his head at the memory of his audience with the Men of Yelren, not surprised at the outcome of such a meeting. He had seen it happen many times before, which explained his slowly fading faith in Men. While he agreed that they had done much to overcome the evil of the Dark Lord Sauron, it had not restored much of his faith in them. While that dark power might be gone, it did not mean that there were no more evils and temptations that the Men could fall under.

           Tiruc and his men had left Rivendell at once, leaving the air between them and Elrond unclear. Before their departure, however, Tiruc had looked upon the lord of the realm one last time and ushered the warning, "We will not be denied the power that was once within our grasp. Mark my words, Elf! The power of the sorceress Aìnu _will_ be possessed by the Men of Yelren!"

            It had not concerned him, this threat that had been issued for there was only a select few who knew the truth concerning this power. Most Elves had all but forgotten about the sorceress and only a handful knew of the power she had possessed. Whatever Tiruc and his men were planning would only be met by disaster from lack of knowledge of what they sought.

            Once again, Elrond shook his head. He was not worried about the situation, but he was troubled over Adrianna's sudden departure. While he knew the maiden was cured and harmless, those who wished to impose justice upon her would not take her leave of Rivendell very well. In almost a week's time, Ziendriel would be arriving as Adrianna had requested; perhaps the two would pass in travel?

            He did not know to where she had run off to, nor the reason why. Surely she had heard the Men's threat, as he knew of her secret listening spot just beyond the windows of his hall; the Men obviously did not know where to search or what exactly to seek. A new thought suddenly entered his mind: What if she had heard something from the low conversation Tiruc had had as he left the hall? He had bent his head close to that of his companion as they had walked out and had murmured low. Perhaps his words had alarmed Adrianna to something he had missed?

            Elrond frowned deeply, his worry increased. If his suspicions were correct, then Adrianna had just put herself in a dangerous situation….which in any case justified his command for his guard to follow her.

            Legolas checked the reins on Vanesse, tapping her lightly on her nose when she moved to playfully nip his hand. "Careful, runt!" he warned, though a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He had yet to forgive the animal for the last bite she had given him and was not sure he wished to. When he heard the horse neigh, he turned away from her. "You will not change your mind?" he asked his wife, who now stood beside him.

            The day was just beginning and they were numbered among the small crowd that stood in the front courtyard of the palace. Erundil, who had pleaded and begged his father to allow him to accompany his mother to Rivendell (for he had yet to see the beautiful refuge that had tickled his imagination through tale), already sat upon his own steed, a stunning brown mare by the name of Zara. Next to him, grooming his own horse, was Jhad. He had volunteered to escort the princess and her son, insisting that the honor be given to him. Four other lords of the king's guard, as well as Tiri, were also accompanying her, waiting patiently for their departure.

            Ziendriel laughed and warmly placed a hand on his smooth cheek. "No, husband," she answered, smiling, "I will not." When she saw him sigh, her smile turned soft. "I know you do not approve of this journey," she told him, "But you understand why I must go?"

            Legolas sighed, then nodded. "I do," he answered, "But it does not mean I must agree with it." In truth, this would be the first time Ziendriel would be away from the kingdom as well as him since their marriage and it was not sitting well with his instincts or his heart. Since the night before, a feeling of dread had settled in his stomach and had not left. The feeling was still present as he now said farewell to his wife.

            He suddenly motioned a servant forward, taking from her the carefully folded bundle that she held. Ziendriel watched as it fairly shimmered in the sun as he gently shook the material free, revealing a long, dark gray cloak. Legolas gently threw it around her shoulders, then fastened it at her throat with the beautiful leaf clasp that was pinned there. His eyes went momentarily to that clasp before telling her, "This is the cloak from my travels with the Fellowship; it was another gift from the Lady of Light. It protected me from harm and I wish for you to benefit from that protection also."

            Ziendriel did not know what to say. She felt a sense of great honor run through her as she gently fingered the clasp, watching as it caught the sunlight with its gold and green colors. She had often wondered what had become of this cloak after his return home for he never spoke of it after they had married. It smelled of the woods surrounding her, immediately bringing an image of her husband to mind; she smiled.

            Legolas kissed her lightly on her forehead, then allowed his lips to linger on hers, inhaling the sweet scent of being so near to her. "_Aa__' menealle nauva _

_calen__ ar' _malta_ (May your ways be green and golden)," he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. _

            She nodded, pressing another kiss to his lips. She smiled softly, then allowed him to help her mount her horse. When she had settled comfortably upon Vanesse's back, she leaned down and cupped his cheek in her hand. Legolas returned the gesture, a slight frown marring his handsome face. "Return to me safely, _meleth_," he whispered.

            The sound of her laughter made his ears twitch. "I dare not defy your wishes, milord," she teased. She sent him one last smile, then straightened up. To Jhad, she said, "I believe we are ready." Jhad nodded. "_Namaarie__," he told the assembled crowd. He placed his hand to his chest, then gently swept his arm in front of him. Those who were to remain returned the gesture, then watched as the small company turned and galloped away. _

            Legolas stood there for the longest time, his eyes watching as his wife and son disappeared among the dense gathering of trees, his keen eyes committing their movements to memory. Even after the others had ventured back into the palace, Legolas stood there, willing his wife's safety by the mere intensity of his eyes.

            As the journey wore on, Ziendriel was also becoming unsettled at her decision to go. It was in her best interest, as well as that of Adrianna, that she made this journey but that conviction gave her little or no comfort from the uneasiness she felt. Her apprehension stemmed from nightmares the night before her departure, but whose images she could not recall. What she could remember was the emotion of fright it had left her with and the anxiety that she forcefully pushed away.

            It returned full force once they had left the safety of Mirkwood's borders and were now openly traveling on the road. Without the dense covering of the great trees of her home, the sun shone brighter on the little party, prompting Ziendriel to draw the hood of her cloak over her head, giving some relief to her eyes. There was hardly any cover out on the path, save a few bushes; this only heightened her insecurity.

            She had just turned to her son to assure herself of his well-being when it happened. She did not know from whence they come nor where they had sought concealment in the sparse surroundings, but Ziendriel found her company being attacked.

            Fifteen Men on horseback came charging at them from all sides, their yells echoing in the free air. The hooves of their horses sounded like thunder as they pounded upon the ground, closing in on the eight Elves. The Men were dressed in head-to-toe black, giving their appearance to that of savages. Each one had long, dark hair that flew wildly about them, and their equally dark eyes burned with a dangerous light.

            "Erundil!" Ziendriel called to her son, moving Vanesse closer to him. She grasped him firmly by his armpits and plucked the young prince easily from the back of his horse. She sat him in front of her as she tightly clasped her horse's reins in her white-knuckled hands. The child was trembling as the Men drew closer and instinctively buried himself within the safety of his mother's arms.

            Jhad was firing off commands to his men. "_Noro_ (Run!)!" he yelled to Ziendriel and Tiri, "Make for the safety of the borders of Mirkwood!" No sooner had the words left his mouth than did he turn back to face their attackers.

            Ziendriel motioned for Tiri to follow her, then kicked Vanesse into a mad dash. 

They backtracked upon the path, heading east towards the west border of Mirkwood that could be seen in the horizon ahead. There were two Men that gave them chase, a steady stream of cursing now spewing from their mouths. Ziendriel chose to ignore them and focused on getting her son to safety.

            The clash of metal could be heard from behind her, as well as the battle cries of both Men and Elves. Over the pace of Vanesse, she could hear Tiri whimpering pitifully and turned her eyes to her servant. A look of pure fright was upon the poor maiden's face as she was jostled on the back of her horse, her hands buried in its mane. She kept her eyes ahead, her lips moving silently in prayer as she begged the Valar to allow her to escape the Men. The trees of Mirkwood were now growing closer and Ziendriel felt her heart leap for joy. She urged Vanesse forward with a whisper into the animal's ear and prayed that the western patrol of the kingdom would spot them soon.

            The thought was taken from her as she suddenly found herself suddenly crashing to the ground. She gasped as the wind was knocked out of her and she vaguely heard Erundil's cry of pain. Rolling over onto her stomach, Ziendriel saw her son a few feet away from her, curled up into a ball. Vanesse was also on the ground, thrashing wildly on her side, three arrows embedded deep within one of her hind legs.

            "Mistress!" Tiri screamed, once she realized the princess was no longer riding beside her. She quickly turned her horse around and commanded the animal back. Ziendriel was up and at her son's side as the Men suddenly flanked her. She cradled Erundil in her arms, quietly soothing him with her whispers. She kept her eyes to the leering Men stationed high above her on horses, but said nothing.

            "Give us the child," one of the Men commanded, pointing his sword at them.

            Ziendriel looked defiantly at him. "No," she answered, her motherly instincts now awakened. She drew her arms protectively around her now whimpering son and glared at the Men who dared threatened them.

            The other man sneered at her. "What did you say?" he demanded, spittle flying from his mouth. He, too, drew his sword and pointed it at the she-Elf. His mind acknowledged her beauty for long had he desired to see such a creature, but he also knew that he had his orders and would not be deterred by his boyhood fantasy.

            Ziendriel carefully stood, holding Erundil to her bosom. "I said no," she repeated, calmly, though her heart now beat angrily against her chest, "You have attacked us with no provocation and have frightened my child. And now you demand I give him to you? Why would I willingly agree?" She continued to gaze at them, her eyes never wavering from theirs. She could hear Tiri making her way back to them and hoped her distraction would prove worthily.

            The Men were livid! "You dare defy us?!" one of them yelled, dismounting from his horse. He took one step forward, his sword clutched in his hand, but that was all he was afforded before Tiri came crashing through on her horse. The man on his horse easily avoided her and gave chase, while the man on the ground was momentarily distracted.

            Ziendriel used the opportunity to drive the heel of her hand into her attacker's cheekbone, then kick his feet out from under him when he became dazed. She smiled a little when he howled with pain and anger, turning his blazing eyes towards her. She set Erundil upon his feet and moved him behind her.

            The man was now cursing words she did not understand nor wished to. His free hand went to his face, while he struggled to get to his feet, his other hand still clutching his sword. He growled as he brought the sword up, ready to strike down the she-Elf before him…

            The surprise on his face barely registered when his sword was met by one held in the she-Elf's hands. From where she had gotten it, he did not know. What he did know was that she was blocking his blow and was not apologetic.

            Ziendriel widely swung her sword in a large arc, knocking the sword from his hand. She hid her smile as she reminded herself to thank Gragoc for his lessons, then pointed the tip of her blade at the man glaring at her. "I would that you leave now," she told him, her own eyes blazing the color of emeralds. She was thoroughly furious by this man's audacity and felt the desire to break his nose. However, the sniffling emitted by her son melted that desire; she needed to get Erundil to safety and soon.

            The man sneered at her, his own anger apparent. In one last effort, he lunged for her, but Ziendriel easily side stepped him, moving Erundil with her. When the man flew past her, she brought the hilt of her sword down upon his head, wincing as she heard the sickening thud. He fell to the ground in a cloud of dust as she sheathed her sword in the belt concealed by Legolas' cloak.

            "Are you alright, Erundil?" she asked the Elfling, clutching him once again into her arms. When he merely nodded, she whispered, "Let us run, then." She moved him onto her back and clutched the back of his knees as he wrapped his legs around her. She began to run towards the western border of her home, throwing an apologetic glance at her injured horse. Once they were safe, she would send someone back for the rest of the party, including her horse. Vanesse neighed loudly, watching her mistress go, then slowly lowered her head back to the ground.

            _Legolas will be furious!_ She thought, as she ran. An image of her husband flashed before her eyes, his face contorted with anger. His emotions would not be aimed at her, she knew that; it would instead be targeted for himself, added to the blame he would no doubt place on his shoulders. She knew the workings of his thoughts whenever it concerned her, but did not know of his reaction since their son was now included in this danger. She was not anxious to find out.

            Ziendriel saw no sign of Tiri, nor of Jhad and his men. She dared not look over her shoulder and continued to run, keeping her eyes on the approaching trees ahead. She did not see any of the patrol, but chided herself for not remembering the clever concealment of Elves. They were there, but she could not take the time to properly seek them with her eyes.

            Erundil suddenly screamed as he was torn from his mother's back, roughly grabbed around the neck. The sudden movement made Ziendriel fly backwards, causing her to crash to the ground. A pain shot up her spine as she landed on her back and she cried out in pain.

            "Got you!" the man yelled triumphantly, holding the screaming child by the neck. 

Ziendriel recognized him as the man who had chased Tiri off; she glanced around, looking for her servant, but could not see her anywhere; it only heightened her fear for Tiri. Her son's frightened cries brought her eyes back to him.

            "Release him!" she yelled, getting to her feet. She moved towards them, but immediately stopped when the man's hand suddenly tightened around Erundil's neck. He gasped.

            The man sneered at her. "I think not, milady," he told her, "Unless you would wish him dead." He purposely squeezed harder and laughed when the child's gasps became silent.

            "Stop!" Ziendriel screamed, tears pricking her eyes. She looked at her son as he was once again allowed to breathe and apologizing with her eyes. "Please," she said in barely a whisper, "Do not hurt him."

            The man laughed at her, mockingly. "How little you Elves think of Men!" he told her, smugly, "And if I did wish to hurt him, what would stop me?" The expression on his face was now one of gloating, though it turned his appearance into that of a ghastly man.

            "He is the Prince of Mirkwood, whose borders we are near," Ziendriel answered, proudly, "To hurt him would be the death of you and your men." She was satisfied when the smugness disappeared from his face; no doubt he had heard of the fierce warriors the race of Elves were trained to be.

            After a moment of doubt, the sneer returned to the man's face. "Then we will work this to our advantage," he told her, tucking the child under his arm. He turned to walk away, but whirled back when Ziendriel lunged for her son. She felt his curled up fist connect with the back of her head and immediately fell to the ground. The last thing she heard before the darkness overcame her was the sound of Erundil screams as he was spirited away.


	8. Chapter 7: Aftermath

**Chapter 7**

            Legolas stormed through the halls of his father's house, the torrent of emotions rampant upon his face as he did so. The servants that wisely dashed out of his path were alarmed at the dark cloud of anger that clouded his eyes, reminiscent of the time that Ziendriel had been abducted by Lady Roseleaf. They all watched as he made his way down the hall and did not stop until he had arrived at the doors of his bedchambers.

            He burst through those doors, startling the occupants within. When word had been given concerning the arrival of the injured of the company, Ziendriel's family had immediately rushed to the palace accompanied by a Healer. His blue eyes ignored the startled looks that were given to him and instead, immediately fastened to the still figure lying upon his bed. He stalked over, taking in the semi-closed eyes and unconscious form of his wife and felt his anger rise. "What happened?" he demanded, lowly. 

            The others in the room silently glanced at one another. The prince's anger was apparent and none of them had the desire to further that emotion. They had barely heard of the attack on the princess' company and did not know the specifics of what exactly had happened. However, they did not know how to tell that to the prince.

            Legolas heard the silence of those around him and turned to them with the intent of demanding someone to speak. That action was stopped when his eyes fell upon those that were assembled in the room. "Where is my son?" he demanded, somewhat alarmed. He knew nothing could prevent Erundil from being by his mother's side; where was he now?

            Finally, Lilia stepped forward and rested a soothing hand on his arm. "We have not been given word yet, milord," she told him, smiling gently, "We were only told that the party was attacked and there were some who were injured, Ziendriel among them. Jhad has been sent to the House of Healing with his men. I am sure Erundil is with him and will be along shortly." She knew it could not be easy for her son-in-law to see Ziendriel like this, even if her ailments were not very serious according to the Healer.

            Legolas offered her a weak smile, knowing he was overreacting. Obviously Jhad had protected his family and they were safe now; that was all that mattered. He could not help himself when it came to the safety of Ziendriel or his son; it came naturally, like taking in the air to breathe. They were pieces of his heart and only with them did he feel complete.

            A low moan sounded from the bed, turning all eyes to Ziendriel. She was beginning to awaken. Her body slightly shifted as her eyes fluttered slowly open, focusing on the ceiling above her. _Where am I? _She wondered, staring at the strange patterns her unfocused eyes caused her to see. Images of her last conscious thoughts came to her mind, replaying scene after scene of the attack of her and her companions. Her body violently froze and her face contorted with fear. "Erundil!" she screamed, bolting upright in the bed. She threw the covers off of her and swung her feet over the side of the bed. The action was done too quickly for in the next moment, her vision blurred and a pain from the back of her head shot to her eyes, causing her to moan.

            Startled, Legolas caught her in his arms and sat down beside her. He was surprised when she began to struggle with him. "Ziendriel!" he exclaimed, holding fast to her arms, "_Meleth! _It is me!"

            Ziendriel heard him, but tried to pry herself free. "Release me!" she cried, "I must go to Erundil!" She twisted her arms free from his grasp and tried to stand, but only succeeded in swooning.

            Lilia rushed forward and clasped her daughter's hands. "You are safe now, daughter!" she told her, soothingly, "You are in the safety of Mirkwood, with your family. Do you understand? You are safe!" She motioned for the Healer to come forward, a sleeping draught ready to be administered.

            Ziendriel suddenly stopped struggling and knocked the draught out of the shocked Healer's hand. The princess gave a scream of frustration. "No!" she cried, "It is you who does not understand!" She felt the sting of tears in her eyes as she continued, "Erundil is not here! He was taken by the Men who attacked us!" A stunned silence followed her statement, along with a strangled cry of disbelief from Legolas. She turned to him, seeing his astonished face and her heart dropped with heavy guilt. "I am sorry, husband," she whispered, her tears falling, "I could not protect him. I tried but I-I couldn't…" She broke off then, her sobs wracking her body. She buried her face in her hands, sinking down to the floor.

            Legolas stared at his wife, his mind not comprehending her words at the moment. He saw her bury her face into the side of their bed, her cries echoing in the room as her body violently shook with her despair. He continued to stare at her, both his mind and heart refusing to grasp the meaning of her words. He could not acknowledge it for it would mean his son, his Erundil, was no longer within his reach; callously snatched from his mother's arms and forced to watch her fall. He could not imagine the fear Erundil must have felt, witnessing such a scene.

 Hearing Ziendriel hoarsely whisper their son's name jolted Legolas from his thoughts and he immediately knelt beside her to take her into his arms. His arms went round her body to tightly hold her against him, feeling her tears soak through the material of his tunics. He tried whispering soothingly to her, but found his own voice crack through his grief. He pressed his lips to the side of her head, allowing the tears in his eyes to slide down his cheeks. "Do not cry, Ziendriel," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

Lilia muffled her own sob as she witnessed the despair of her children. A lone tear escaped down her cheek and she pressed herself closer to her husband. Jerec looked to her and placed an arm around her shoulders, then kissed her ear. It was hard to see the young couple in such misery, especially with the emotions of parents. As with any parent, Jerec desired his daughter to be happy but could not bear it when she experienced something otherwise.

Ziendriel clutched her husband tighter, her fingers digging almost painfully into his sides. "I could not save him, Legolas," she murmured, broken-hearted, "I-I could not…he screamed for me, but I could not do anything." She broke off once again, burying her face deeper into his chest.

Legolas gently released her, crooking his finger under her chin so that he might look into her eyes. "Tell me what happened," he told her, softly. When she stiffened at the request, he smiled sadly. "Please, _meleth_," he said, his gaze intently on her, "I cannot fathom the emotions you must feel at the moment nor can I understand what you experience with each memory of the attack. You were the last to see Erundil; please tell me what conspired."

Ziendriel released a shuddering breath, her sobs slowly subsiding. Though she considered Legolas' words, her eyes never left his. In them, she could see his wisdom and maturity, the intelligence and grace that made him the Elf before her. Truth be told, she had hesitated at his marriage proposal because of the traits she now saw; Legolas was a few centuries older than she, but one could distinguish his obvious experience in the ways of life through his actions and mannerisms. She had been intimidated by that and had actually considered refusing him.

But, logic had prevailed and Ziendriel now cherished the wisdom Legolas possessed. Though his mind worked like that of a warrior, she knew it was because of it that he had survived the War of the Ring and the dangers of his travels with the Fellowship. 

Her thoughts ended and brought her back to her husband's eyes. She slowly nodded, then with a deep breath began to recount her tale.

Tiruc, son of Yelren, glanced at the shores of the Anduin River before gently docking his small boat in shallow water, the remainder of his company following close behind in their own. He had lost almost half his men to the swords of the Elves, which greatly disturbed them as he had thought the Elves outnumbered. He had paid for that assumption with the lives of his brethren.

His dark brown eyes surveyed the dark shadows the trees made, looking for any sign of those he was to meet. In front of him, the Elfling he and his men had captured sat motionless, his small hands and feet tightly bound behind him. Not a word had the child made throughout the entire journey down the river and away from the lands of the Elves, which unnerved Tiruc more than he cared to admit.

Elves were a curious people, that much he was sure of. Long had he desired to see one with his very own eyes, but had never thought it possible. The Great War, though he had fought alongside Men, had not given him the opportunity he had now.

The Elfling's mother had been a glorious sight to behold and Tiruc felt his throat run dry by the sheer memory of her beauty. Her pale skin had glowed in the sunlight as she had defied him, refusing to do as he had demanded. Her long black hair, the color of the darkest hour of night, had freely tumbled down her back, released through the rigors of pursuit. He remembered the slight movements of the silken strands in the light breeze, remembered the desire to reach out and touch that hair. And those eyes! Never had he seen the color of the eyes of the she-Elf, for they shone with an intensity and blaze he had never known. Green was not apt enough to describe it, for it was so much more than that. He believed that it could only be described by a beautiful song of the Elves.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden arrival of his commander. He turned his attention to the man who emerged from the shadows of the forest and walked purposefully towards him. Tiruc stepped from his boat, grabbing the Elfling as he did so. He placed the child to his feet, just as his leader reached him.

"Well met, Tiruc," Kel, Chief Counsel to the King of Yelren, told him, clasping his arm, "You have done very well." He glanced down at the Elf-child, noting the detached look in his startling blue eyes. Kel knelt before the child and took in his countenance before asking, "What is your name, child?"

It was a long moment before he answered. "Erundil," he answered, the pride evident in his soft voice. His chin rose defiantly as he looked at his captors, an action that reminded Tiruc of the child's mother.

"We have reason to believe that this is the prince of Greenwood, what they now call Mirkwood," Tiruc told Kel, pushing the thought of the she-elf from his mind, "Before he was taken, we had a, uh, run-in with his mother." He unconsciously rubbed the back of his head; a large bump from the hilt of the she-elf's sword had formed.

Kel gleefully smiled. "Excellent!" he exclaimed, before turning back to the child. "You are an important part of our plan of survival, Erundil," he told him, "A very important part; you will help the Men of Yelren and you will be remembered for it."

The child simply stared at him, his face now void of emotion. This action startled Kel, who nervously stood to his feet. He did not have much experience with Elves or Elflings for that matter, but this one was very unnerving. To Tiruc, he asked, "Has the next part of the plan been executed?"

Tiruc nodded. "If the Elves are as keen-sighted as the tales make them to be," he answered, "then they should be cursing Men at this very moment." He grinned.

Kel returned the smile. "Very good," he said, nodding. "Come," he added, "I fear the road is long and we must leave now for the safety of our lands." He turned and whistled, bringing forth several horses from their hidings in the forest.

Erundil remained silent as Tiruc picked him up and put him upon a dark brown horse. Though he knew of the danger he was now in, the Elfling refused to show any sign that belied his true emotions. For Erundil, son of Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, was terrified and wanted the comfort of his mother's soothing arms.


	9. Chapter 8: The Mark of the Sorceress

**A/N: Warning! There is somewhat of a cliffhanger ending to this chapter. I thought I should tell you all before you all start throwing curses at me! *grins***

****

**Chapter 8**

           The very next day proved to be life-changing for Ziendriel, though she did not realize it when she awoke that morning. The day started off normal enough, with, of course, the exception of her son's absence. She rose from her bed, just as the sun's rays peeked out between the trees. Legolas still lay in their bed, but whether he slept or was awake, remained unseen to her. She quietly slipped towards the balcony of their room and stepped through the doors that had remained open during the night. The cold stone of the balcony floor was cold and biting as she stepped upon it, but her preoccupation did not allow her mind to acknowledge it.

            She did not sleep well the night before and could not get the memory of Erundil's abduction from her mind. His cries still echoed in her head, reminding her heart of the guilt she tried so hard to forget. Her arms felt heavy and empty without him to hold and she did not know how much longer she could be without him.

            "The morning breaks beautiful, does it not?" Legolas murmured from behind, as he came to stand beside her. He slipped a light robe over her shoulders, brushing her hair away from her neck and placing a small kiss behind her ear. When she simply nodded, he added, "I stood on this very balcony every morning during your abduction, thinking of you. It was here that I was able to collect my thoughts and reflect. I remember the feelings of loneliness that claimed me during that time, thinking how lonely I would be if I never found you. It is a feeling I vowed never to allow my heart to experience again."

            Ziendriel stared out into the gardens below, her heart sinking. If he told her this to hurt her, to blame her for Erundil's predicament, then it indeed cut her to the bone. "Forgive me for stirring up unwanted emotions, milord," she whispered, a single tear slipping down her cheek, "I know I have failed you concerning our son." Her vision became blurred as her eyes filled with tears.

            Legolas gently took her by the shoulders and forced her to look at him. "I do not blame you, _meleth_," he told her, firmly, "You must push the thought from your mind. I know you and I know your heart. I am confident that you did all you could to help Erundil. He knows it also; you must believe it."

            "If that is so then why is he not here with me? With us?" she asked, furiously wiping her eyes, "If I did what I could, Erundil would be here, safe in my arms!" She pulled away from him, stepping back into the room.

            Legolas hurried after her, capturing her wrist with his fingers in a strong, firm grip. He said nothing as she struggled with him, desperately attempting to tug her wrist free. He saw her tears had been released and now freely coursed down her cheeks, splattering down upon the material of her night dress. He felt his heart further breaking as he realized the guilt his wife felt for it was much of the same he had felt when he had discovered Adrianna had kidnapped her. He remembered the guilt which had attacked his conscience days after Ziendriel had been safely returned, and to this day he still felt it when he allowed his mind to wander too far. He understood the emotion that now plagued his wife, understood more than he desired to but could not help. Life's lessons had given this understanding to him and now he could only use that experience to help Ziendriel.

            "You will listen to me, Ziendriel!" he commanded, once again grasping her firmly by the shoulders and forcing her to look at him, "You are not a warrior; despite all that the others and I have taught you, you hold no experience. You accepted the fact and I was wrong to ignore it." He apologetically smiled at her, which did not go unnoticed through her tears. "But, despite your lack of experience, you have a trait that I nor any other male in the kingdom possess: motherly instinct. You protected Erundil with all that instinct allowed you and while impressive, it was unfortunately not enough." He looked at her, his eyes softening at her misery. "You must admit to yourself that this is true, Ziendriel," he added, gently, "Your heart must do this in order to gain forgiveness for yourself."

            She looked away from him, her eyes miserable and dull. So many lives had been changed that day of the attack, so many affected by the decisions and actions of that particular group of Men: Jhad and his men had been greatly outnumbered and had suffered for it with numerous wounds and bruises; Erundil had been abducted and his fate and well-being were unknown; Tiri was weak and unconscious from a nasty wound to the back of her head, and Velia and the others were unsure if she would survive; and Vanesse, that faithful animal, had been healed of her injured leg and was now snapping at anyone who came near here. It was a sure sign that she was on the mend.

            _Why do I feel as if there was something more I could have done that day? She thought, staring at the floor, __I do not know if my thoughts stem from this motherly instinct Legolas speaks of, but my heart tells me that perhaps there was more I was capable of that day. She thought a moment, then shook her head. Her husband was right; if she was to learn to forgive herself, then she needed to stop dwelling on "what could have been." To Legolas she said, "Forgive me, for I wallow in self-pity. I will try and do what you suggest for I fear I will urge myself into insanity if I do not." She offered him a small, weak smile._

            He smiled at her and kissed her forehead lightly. They stood there for a moment, frozen in time, wrapped in the safety and comfort of one another's arms. It was how Depa found them when she entered the bedchambers, causing her to blush at intruding upon a tender moment. She discreetly coughed, then attempted to compose herself when their eyes found her.

            "Yes, Depa?" Legolas asked, but did not release his wife from his embrace.

            The servant curtsied, then answered, "King Thranduil requests your presence, as well as that of the princess. He has the most urgent news concerning Prince Erundil." She saw the couple jolt with surprise, their eyes round with surprise as they stared at her. Depa once again cleared her throat, then offered, "May I help you dress, milady?"

            Ziendriel looked into the kindness of Depa's dark brown eyes and immediately nodded. Legolas had been right when he had told her, long ago, that Depa was a loyal and faithful servant. The maiden had welcomed her from the moment she had become the Princess of Mirkwood and, with the exception of Tiri, was her confidant.

            Depa swiftly stepped into action, stepping towards the armoire. She did not bother the prince for he had long ago explained that he did not feel comfortable having someone dress him when he was capable of doing it himself. Instead, she focused her attentions on the princess and the intent of readying her for an audience with the king.

            Ziendriel joined Depa near the armoire and slightly smiled when a dress of royal blue was pulled out. If it had been up to her, she would have worn the mourning color of black, but this only proved how well Depa had come to know her. "Thank you," she murmured, as she quickly undressed. The servant merely smiled.

            Legolas watched his wife getting dressed as he waited somewhat impatiently. He would never understand the logic behind a woman's rituals concerning dresses and grooming; why could they not just be satisfied with what they put on their bodies and leave it at that? His train of thought abruptly stopped when his keen eyes suddenly spotted something from his vantage point "Hold," he told Depa, just as she was to bring the dress down and over his wife's head. His eyes were glued to Ziendriel's back as he walked towards her.

            "What is it, Legolas?" Ziendriel asked, glancing at him over her shoulder. She watched as he looked at her back, his blue eyes filled with fascination. She started a bit when his cool fingers brushed upon a spot on the small of her back. She heard him murmur something, then remembered Tiri had done similar actions. "Do you see the birthmark there?" she asked, "Tiri found it the other day and mentioned it to me. She says it looks as hands pressed together in prayer." She began to laugh, but stopped when she heard his sharp intake of breath.

            Depa noticed it also. "Milord?" she questioned, noting the shocked expression on his face as he continued to stare at the tiny mark on the princess' back. His fingers were slightly trembling as he pulled his hand back and stood upright.

            "It is nothing," he told them both. He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, then added, "We must hurry, Ziendriel."

            Ziendriel stared at him for a moment, puzzled, then nodded her head. She turned back to Depa, who was equally confused, but finished dressing her mistress. Knowing of the impatience the king sometimes displayed, Depa hurried, finishing with a fast run of a brush through the princess' hair.

            Legolas dismissed Depa and walked over to take his wife's hand. Together they left their bedchambers and hurried down the halls of the palace, towards the throne room. A small crowd had gathered before the king's dais and Ziendriel felt her heart stop when she noticed the grim expressions on each face present. She clutched Legolas' hand tighter.

            "What news?" Legolas demanded, once they reached the king. He looked first to his father, then to his friends; Jhad had insisted on coming, despite the numerous bandages that covered his arms, shoulders and head. The others that had also gathered were Ziendriel's parents and her sister Ariel. Velia stood off to the side, looking more grim than usual.

            Thranduil handed a roll of parchment to his son. "A ransom note was discovered shortly after the party returned," he explained. He watched as the couple reached simultaneously for the paper and began to read.

            Legolas groaned and released the paper as he turned away. A string of muttered Elvish curses could be heard from him, as Ziendriel curiously reeread the message printed:

            _The Elfling is safe and unharmed but how long he stays that way depends on the great leaders of Mirkwood. We will return the child in exchange for the Elf who bears the power of Aìnu, the Elven sorceress. You know of what we speak of and we will not be denied. Bring aforementioned Elf to the location listed below; you will be given further instructions upon arrival. Tread carefully for the fate of the Elfling is upon your heads._

            It was not signed, but all present knew from whom it was from. Ziendriel turned puzzled eyes to the king. "Who is this Elf they speak of?" she asked, "And why do they request them in exchange for Erundil?" She frowned when she saw everyone, with the exception of Ariel, shift uncomfortably on their feet. "What is it that you all know but do not wish to tell me?" she demanded.

            The silence that followed was deafening. Eyes glanced at one another, an unspoken conversation taking place all around her and she did not like it. Ariel, who was just as confused and annoyed at being left out, stood beside her sister and clutched her hand.

            Finally, Thranduil stepped forward, clearing his throat. He invited his daughter-in-law to join him on the steps of his dais. He waited until she was seated next to him before he asked, "Know you of the Elven sorceress Aìnu?" He, along with the others, waited for her answer.

            Ziendriel nodded. "She possessed the powers of a Healer," she answered, "She was captured and killed by the hands of Men many millennia ago." She looked for confirmation from him and smiled when he nodded.

            "Yes," he told her, "That is correct. However, there are only a select few who know the true reason the sorceress was pursued and later killed by those Men."

            "True reason?" Ziendriel repeated, bewildered by the insinuated mystery, "What is this that you speak of?" She stared intently at him, looking deep into his eyes; they were so similar to those of Legolas and Erundil, it was somewhat hard to look at him.

            Thranduil glanced at her parents, who silently nodded. "Not many are aware that the sorceress possessed a greater power than originally believed," he began, "In fact, I do not think there are many Elves here in Mirkwood that would remember Aìnu now. You see, the power she had was of no use to the immortality of Elves, but was greatly desired by those who did not have that gift of life."

            "What power is this?" Ziendriel asked, mesmerized by the tale.

            "Aìnu had the power over death," Thranduil answered and paused when she was shocked into silence. He gently patted her hand, then continued, "It is useless to the Elves because we are immortal. There are those of us who have died in battle, but we have always been blessed with the understanding of that aspect of our lives; it is a part of who we are and we would not disturb the wishes of the Valar. However, there are others, Men included, that do not have the understanding and desire to overcome death. The power of Aìnu makes it possible to bring those back from Death's grasp and it is because of this, guardians of Aìnu were created. Through generations of time, Elves of  these guardians have taken their places as protectors of the sorceress."

            "But, if she was killed, how are we to return Erundil safely to Mirkwood?" Ariel asked, forgetting where and whom she spoke to. Lorith went to her side and silently shushed her with a stern look. Ariel blushed.

            "And why do they speak of an Elf that possesses this power?" Ziendriel added, "Are there any who are descended from the sorceress?"

            Thranduil averted his eyes. "Yes and no," he answered. He nervously cleared his throat, then added, "Aìnu knew that Men were after her and she knew what they sought. She was determined to not allow her power or herself into the hands of the Men and so she fled. She ran through all the Elven dwellings, hoping to lose those that pursued her. She eventually arrived here in Greenwood the Great, as Mirkwood was called then, where the Men were fast approaching."

            "How sad that her last days were spent fleeing from those who wished her harm," Ziendriel murmured. She appeared deep in thought, frowning.

            Thranduil gently poked her in the arm. "You are interrupting, daughter," he told her, teasingly. He chuckled when she blushed, then sobered himself to continue the tragic tale of the Elven sorceress. "During her travels, Aìnu had received a vision concerning her fate. She had already determined that she would not give her power so willingly to Men and so sentenced herself to death. She knew she was to die for her refusal, but accepted it. However, as she stumbled through our trees, injured from a previous capture at the hands these Men, Aìnu happened upon an Elven couple returning home. She collapsed at their feet, which then led them to take her to their flet nearby. There, the revived the injured sorceress, but was not able to do more for her injuries.

            "Upon her awakening, the couple began to question her, unaware of her true identity. Aìnu, however, did not wish to reveal herself lest she put this couple in danger. Instead, she began to ask about them and their lives. It was during this that she discovered the couple was childless, the female cursed with the inability to produce an heir for her husband. Upon hearing this, Aìnu devised a solution that would benefit them all." He paused for a moment, dramatically holding Ziendriel in suspense.

            "And?" she prompted, hoping to conceal her eagerness. This tale intrigued her, but would ultimately decide the course of action to retrieve her son. She needed to hear it through.

            "Being the great sorceress that she was," Thranduil continued, "Aìnu was able to draw out her power and form it into a small sphere of energy. Not an easy thing to do, but possible because of her powers. The sphere was then formed into that of the beginnings of an Elven babe and implanted into the barren womb of the she-Elf."

            Ziendriel felt the blood drain from her face as her body went rigid with shock. Never had she heard of such power, such magical doings as an Elf being formed from a source of energy. Surely it was not true?

            Thranduil could read the disbelief on her face, for his next words were, "I assure you, we have this information on reliable and trustworthy witnesses." He winked to someone among them, but Ziendriel did not see to whom it was directed to. The others were quietly standing there, listening unaffected by the tale.

            "I will take to your word," she said, dazed. Her head was spinning from such a revelation.

            "Shortly after entrusting the couple with her powers, Aìnu once again fled," Thranduil went on, "She did not want the Men to discover the couple, lest they know what they now possessed. In an effort to draw the Men away from the Elves, she was captured. When she refused to succumb to their demands, she was killed. The child however, thrived and grew within its mother's womb and was born a year later."

            Ziendriel grew excited. "Know you where this Elf is?" she asked, the eagerness plain in her voice. She turned bright eyes to him.

           "There is more, Ziendriel," Thranduil told her softly, watching her eyes dim a bit. When he knew he had her attention, he said, "In order to protect this child, our scribes took certain liberties with the documentation. They spoke of the guardians of the sorceress, identifiable by a certain mark on their bodies."

            "What mark?" This was asked by both Ziendriel and Ariel.

            Thranduil smiled. "It is the mark of Aìnu," he answered, "A pair of hands pressed palm to palm, like that in a gesture of prayer."

            Ziendriel jerked in surprised, her eyes flying to that of her husband. It was shocking that Tiri had discovered the mark, only to have Legolas do the same days later. And now to learn of the importance of such a brand? "But, it cannot be," she murmured, "I am no guardian. I can hardly defend myself, let alone an Elf possessing such a power." She turned to her father-in-law, her eyes troubled. "I mean no disrespect, your Highness, but the scribes must be mistaken." She was further baffled when he laughed, joined by the others.

            "You misunderstand, Ziendriel," he told her, smiling, "That was the liberty the scribes took when recording the event. They mixed certain elements of the tale to protect the child. You having the mark of Aìnu does not make you a guardian, although it does bear a great significance."

            "And what would that be?" she asked, thoroughly puzzled.

            Thranduil paused for a moment, realizing she had not yet come to the obvious conclusion. He stared at her in surprise, then answered, "Have you not guessed yet, Ziendriel? You bear the mark of Aìnu; you are the child given to the barren couple by the sorceress."

            The silence that had reigned during the tale-telling suddenly became too much for the princess. She jumped to her feet, slowly backing away from the king. She wildly glanced around the room, stepping further away from her family and friends as they came towards her. They were speaking to her, but she could hear none of their words. The combined shock and disbelief that ran through her body prevented her from doing so, leaving her deaf to them. She shook her head and tried to speak but found her throat dry and closed. Her heart was beginning to pound painfully against her chest and the familiar buzzing sound was rushing to her ears….

_She watched as an Elven maid ran across the forest floor, heard her heavy breathing echoing in her ears. The trees hid the sun from the maid, only allowing a small patch here and there to fall. The forest was silent, with the exception of her running feet and her panting. Her eyes wildly looked around but found nothing except the trees._

_            Behind the maid, the yells and cries of those who pursued her could be heard. She knew of the maiden's fear and saw her furious attempt to run faster._

_            In the next moment, she saw the maid grabbed roughly around the arms, saw her legs fly out from under her. She heard her gasp when she was spun around to face her captor, crushed against the cold steel of his armor of her captor._

_            She watched as cold, black eyes met the maid's, stilling the blood in her veins. She opened her mouth to speak, but found no words were forthcoming. She stared at the man that gripped the she-Elf tightly, realizing his lips moved as if to speaking to his captive._

_            She could now see the Man scowling clearly at the Elf-maiden he held, his face contorted with rage as he screamed at her. The Elf merely stood there, simply staring at him as he ranted. She shook her head when his lips paused, which caused the anger to return to his face. He wildly grabbed at her neck, pulling something away from her. When it came loose from her, he stared at the object he now held._

_            She could see it was a necklace, reflecting the light that suddenly fell upon it. Without stepping forward to peer closely, she saw a pair of silver hands grasping a glass orb. Its intricate design was beautiful, yet did not hold the interest of the __Man.__ Disgustedly, he threw the necklace down upon the ground, then quickly drew his sword. She watched with growing horror as he raised it high above his head, only to bring it down upon the Elf-maiden in one quick motion._

_            The Man suddenly disappeared from view and Ziendriel watched as the she-Elf fell lifeless to the ground. Her body hit the ground with a loud thump, remaining motionless on her side. Lolling to one side, the she-Elf's head turned towards her, her eyes gazing at her. With a realization of horror, Ziendriel realized the deceased she-Elf was her!_

            The vision left Ziendriel just as quickly as it had come, causing the room to spin before her eyes. She cried out, blindly reaching for something to grasp, but her hands found nothing but empty air. She felt her body falling backwards as her knees gave out, heard someone screaming her name. And then…blackness.

**A/N:  Just to explain a few things to those of you who might be confused. At the time of "Wanna Bet?" I made Legolas several centuries older than his age based on the movie. Ziendriel is a few centuries younger than him, making the time of her "beginnings" concurrent with the event of the gift and death of Aìnu the sorceress 3,000 years ago. If this doesn't answer all of your questions then please ask!**


	10. Chapter 9: Escape From Insanity

**Chapter 9**

_            She heard the voices first._

_            They began as soft murmurs, as if a conversation was being muffled behind a shut door. She strained her ears, listening for any semblance of familiarity in the voices, but found none. It was dark and she could not she tell where she stood. There was nothing but blackness all around her and she could not feel the ground that she stood upon; in fact, she felt as if she was floating, her arms and legs light and feathery, as she hovered through the air. Her entire body felt weightless and detached, but it was her blindness to her surroundings that worried her the most._

_            The longer she dwelled in the inky blackness, the more uneasy she became at her situation. The voices were gradually growing stronger and louder, but she still could not see to whom they belonged. She tried to call out to these voices, to beg them for help, but found no sound from within her throat. She knew her lips moved, she could feel their movements yet her voice was not found._

_            Taking a deep breath, Ziendriel moved to scream as loud as her situation allowed, but was alarmed when again no sound passed her lips. Frantically, she looked around her, moving her head in all directions, but finding nothing but expanse darkness._

_            A feeling of hopelessness washed over her and she felt a sudden weight rest down upon her shoulders, pressing on her. Her body began to slowly sink downwards, pulling her deeper into the darkness, as if she was a rock sinking into the depths of the sea….._

            Legolas stared down at his wife's once again unconscious form peacefully laying in their bedchambers, his frown creasing his forehead. If the situation wasn't one of such importance, he would surely be laughing at the many times Ziendriel had fainted in the past few days, for those episodes were coming almost daily now.

            He looked at her now, her skin slowly regaining its lively hue of warmth, her eyes half open and staring right through him in her oblivion. His hand reached out to lightly brush her temple, his fingertips reveling in the warmth of her skin. He watched her chest softly rise and fall with each breath she took, as his arms ached to take her into his arms and hold her until they both woke from the nightmare threatening their peaceful lives.

            "I should have prepared for this day," Legolas now murmured, his eyes never leaving Ziendriel, "Father and Lord Elrond warned me this day would come, but I did not heed them." He gently outlined his wife's jaw with a light finger, pausing his fingertip over her lips. "I am so sorry, meleth," he whispered. He replaced the soft touch of his finger with that of his lips, hoping the action of that simple kiss would awaken her from her state of slumber.

            When she did not, Legolas leaned back into his chair and uncomfortably settled himself against its high back. He felt an enormous amount of guilt for the events that had recently unfolded, but more so for the heavy burden Ziendriel now faced because of the revealed truth of her parentage. He had been among the small group of people who had been aware of her true identity, but had been sworn to secrecy with the hope that the truth would never need to be revealed.

            Whether it had been pride or pure foolish hope that a day such as this would never come, Legolas did not know why he had not been allowed to speak with Ziendriel about it. Perhaps if he had been allowed to tell her the moment he had been privy to the information, then his wife would not be laying unconscious from the shock of the truth.           His thoughts drifted back to the day his father had summoned him to his private study. It had been three days before Legolas was to wed Ziendriel, which made the urgency of his father's request all the more curious….

**FLASHBACK**

_            "You wish to speak with me, Father?" Legolas asked, once he was admitted into his father's study. His steps faltered as he realized the presence of Lord Elrond of Rivendell beside Thranduil's chair. He quickly bowed in respect, then greeted, "Lord Elrond, welcome."_

_            Elrond merely nodded, then turned his dark eyes back to Thranduil. The king looked at Legolas for a moment, then gestured for his son to sit. "Please, my son," he invited, "Sit and be comfortable, for there is much we have to discuss."_

_            Legolas started at the tone of his father's voice, as well as to the grave expression on Elrond's face. "Has something happened, Father?" he asked, concerned._

_            "No, no," Thranduil answered, quickly. His eyes went to Elrond who nodded encouragingly. "Our discussion has no need of that kind of concern." His eyes once again traveled to the lord standing calmly beside him._

_            Elrond recognized the hesitation in his friend's eyes. "We must speak to you concerning Ziendriel," he told the prince, then watched as the eyes of the younger elf narrowed._

_            At the mention of his betrothed, Legolas felt his body stiffen. "Yes?" he prompted, though his voice now held an edge. Though the events concerning Ziendriel's abduction were now nearly nine months in the past, it still pushed to the front of his mind whenever her name was mentioned. And being summoned for a private counsel with his father and the man who had a hand in the raising of his bride-to-be did not calm his nerves._

_            "There is something you must know of her," Elrond continued, purposely ignoring the warning in the prince's eyes, "This information I must impart will no doubt have an impact on your decision to marry Ziendriel."_

_            Legolas clenched his jaw and stared hard at Elrond. "Whatever you feel you must tell me will not change my mind, Lord Elrond," he very nearly spat, misunderstanding the intentions and actions of the Elder, "I will marry Ziendriel in three days' time and nothing will change that!" He turned blazing eyes to his father. "Why now, Father?" he demanded, desperately holding onto his anger, "You had me believe Ziendriel to be acceptable in your eyes!"_

_            Thranduil started at his son's words, disbelieving his ears. He stared at him, their identical blue eyes locked together. The words finally sunk into his mind and Thranduil said, "You misunderstand Lord Elrond, as well as I, Legolas! We both love Ziendriel, there is no doubt of it, do not fear! In truth, we may feel she is well beyond the likes of you, son!" He chuckled then, attempting to lighten the mood._

_            For a moment, Legolas sat there, confused beyond words. He looked first to his father, then to Elrond, then back to Thranduil. "Then, what-?" he asked, his forehead creased._

_            Elrond smiled at the prince's confusion and walked over to him. He placed a soothing hand on the younger elf's shoulder. "Do you love Ziendriel?" he asked, though he knew the answer. It was written on his face, as well as his actions; there was no doubt that the prince indeed loved his lady._

_            "Yes," Legolas answered, bewildered, "She is precious to me." He blinked when they both laughed at his words._

_            "More than you know, Legolas!" Elrond told him, chuckling. He took a seat next to him and proceeded to tell him the tale of Ziendriel…._

**END FLASHBACK**

            Legolas sighed as the memory faded to the back of his mind and he was once again brought back to his wife's still form. His eyes searched for any signs of regained consciousness, but flashed with disappointment when none was found. He lingered for a moment on her face and found a smile flutter across his lips. Despite the admission his father and Elrond had told him that day so many years ago, Legolas had been firm in his decision to marry Ziendriel. It did not matter whether or not she had been borne from the love of her parents or from the magical inclinations of a sorceress; he had discovered her to be the missing part of his heart and he would not give her up easily.

            Images of their wedding day flashed before him, causing his smile to soften. He remembered greeting those guests of honor at the steps of his father's house, warmly embracing each remaining member of the Fellowship as he welcomed them: Aragorn, now King Elessar, great ruler of the free lands; Arwen, whose sacrifice of immortality suited her, despite the tiny signs of aging; Gimli, whose graying beard did not dull his wit and sharp tongue; Gandalf the White, armed with a sack full of fireworks to celebrate; and the remaining Hobbits, Sam, Merry and Pippin, all of whom were now happily married and fathers of their own mischievous Hobbits.

            It had been a bittersweet day, for the company of Frodo had been missed. The Ringbearer had left with Bilbo to travel the sea to the Undying Lands prior to the wedding. It had saddened Legolas for a moment, until Gimli had teasingly reminded him that sadness on a day such as that would only bear ill will.

            Legolas softly chuckled at the thought of his Dwarf friend and briefly wondered what Gimli now occupied his time with. At the moment, he sorely missed his blustering companion and would gladly give anything to hear his wisdom now.

            Lilia fervently paced the hallway outside her daughter's bedchambers, her hands unable to remain still for a second. Velia had assured her that Ziendriel was fine and would awaken on her own time, but that time was taking far too long for her liking. She had been alarmed, to the say the least, when Ziendriel had suddenly fainted after she had been told the truth. She had imagined many reactions for her daughter to have after hearing of her beginnings, but in all honesty, she had never imagined Ziendriel would faint! Somehow, after everything she had been through in the past several years, she had thought her daughter beyond fainting.

            "Why did I not tell her?" Lilia now muttered as her pacing increased, "She had a right to know, but I did not acknowledge it. Was I afraid? But of what?" She did not know, truthfully but it did not comfort her in the least.

            Ziendriel was more to her than a daughter, she was a treasured gift to be cherished and loved with one's very soul. Never in her life before Ziendriel was born had Lilia thought she would be blessed with the preciousness of a child for the Healers had declared her barren. The reason for this was unknown and remained so even now, but Lilia no longer cared. She would forever be indebted to the sorceress who sacrificed herself to give Ziendriel to her. She would never be able to fathom the power of Aìnu, to understand how she could possibly form a babe from her essence. The process was lost on her, a simple she-Elf of the royal court, but it did not deter her gratitude.

_            Ziendriel is my gift, my treasure! _She now thought as she paused her pacing to once more stare at the door that led to the bedchambers, _I was not only blessed with one precious life, but two. Never could I have imagined that a mother would I be to two beautiful daughters; not after that dismal verdict by the Healers! Ziendriel made it possible for me to conceive Ariel, of that I have no doubt!_

**FLASHBACK**

_            "How is this possible?" Lilia asked, staring at Lord Elrond as she sat upon her bed within the guest rooms at Rivendell, "It cannot be, can it?" She continued to stare at him, her eyes bewildered._

_            "I assure you, it is," Elrond told her, smiling amusedly, "You are once again with child. Congratulations." He allowed to the words to sink into the young she-Elf's mind, watching for her reaction with interest._

_            He wasn't disappointed. Her jaw dropped open as the blood slowly drained away from her face. "But, how-?" she stammered, "Ziendriel was a miracle, you know it as well as I. I did not think it would affect my infertility." As a close friend to her family and also as a revered healer, he had been privy to her special situation regarding her firstborn. It had been a great comfort to her._

_            "Lilia, you were blessed with the very powers of an elven sorceress," he told her gently, sitting down next to her, "One who was blessed with great healing. I have no doubt that the time spent within you was used wisely on the part of Aìnu's powers."_

_            Sudden understanding dawned within her eyes. "Ziendriel cured me!" she whispered, her eyes wide. When Elrond merely nodded, tears suddenly blurred her vision. "Children! Before Ziendriel that dream has always been denied to me. And now…now!" A grin suddenly burst out onto her face and she reached over and hugged Elrond._

**END FLASHBLACK**

           Jhad sat quietly on the balcony of the princess' bedchambers, staring out into the trees surrounding the palace. Inside, Legolas stood vigil over Ziendriel, an act Jhad himself would be performing had the princess not been married. As her Guardian, it was his duty to oversee her safety, a duty that he so far was failing in.

            The honor of the Guardians of Aìnu had long belonged to his family, first bestowed upon his grandfather Sèro. When he left for the Undying Lands, the duty had passed on to Varno, Jhad's father. Varno had taught his son the importance and the honor that accompanied such a responsibility, and Jhad's young heart and mind had absorbed it eagerly.

            Unfortunately, the torch had once again passed from father to son when Varno was killed while protecting Aìnu. He had been the reason the sorceress had escaped the first time from the Men, but had paid with his life. Jhad had been devastated at his father's death for in his eyes there had been no greater man, save his grandfather, who had ever served in that capacity.

            A year after his father's death, Jhad suffered another loss when his mother left for Valinor, hoping the safe haven of the Elves would help unburden her heart. Súre had held the broken pieces of her heart until she felt she could no longer do it and had all but fled Mirkwood, pausing long enough to bid farewell to her son. Had he not been bound by duty as a Guardian, Jhad was sure he would have gone with his mother.

            He'd thrown himself into that duty with unusual conviction for his age at the time. Merely three hundred years old and dealing with the loss of his parents, he worked day and night training. It had been his idea to King Thranduil to jumble the events of Aìnu's last days, with the intent of setting any seeking Men off the path that led to Ziendriel. Thranduil had been impressed by the suggestion and had done accordingly to his request.

            Jhad had watched Ziendriel from the moment of her birth. He had stood guard outside Lilia's door as she labored to bring her daughter into the world; he'd also been one of the first, after Jerec, to hold the newborn Elfling and gaze at her with wonder; from afar he'd witnessed her first steps, as well as her first word, and many other firsts in her life. As his father had taught him, Jhad had watched the she-Elf with well-trained eyes, always with the cover of secrecy for acknowledgement of her Guardian and his true purpose was not permitted.

            And then came the day that he'd hoped would never arrive. He had silently followed Ziendriel into the forest, watching as she skipped happily among the trees. She had been only six years old at the time, just a year older than Erundil was now, and no doubt just as carefree. So it had been no wonder she had been troubled when she had come across the carcass of a freshly fallen buck….

**FLASHBACK**

            _Jhad watched silently from his perch as Ziendriel knelt beside the body of the great animal, secure in his knowledge that she had not detected him. He crouched down upon the bough of the tree a few feet behind her, his keen eyes surveying the actions of his charge._

_            He saw Ziendriel reach out to gently stroke the now cooling flesh of the buck, and could tell from her slouched posture that she wept. Her long fingers ran over the shining coat of hair, pausing over its eyes. With a moment's thought, she closed the animal's eyes, then bowed her head in solemn tribute as she whispered an Elvish verse of farewell. It was then that Jhad realized that as she did this, her hand, which had rested upon the bulk of the animal's body, began to glow. It began as a dim, fluctuating light, starting at her palm. As the light began to spread to her fingertips, it grew stronger in its brilliance until it held the brightness of a small sun. With growing awe, Jhad watched as light slowly seeped from Ziendriel's hand and spread across the buck, enclosing them in a great sphere of blinding light._

_            Jhad turned away from the scene before him, vainly attempting to shield his eyes from the light. It was of no use as the light seemed to saturate his arm to blind him. He did not know for how long this would last, but was startled when the light suddenly dissipated just moments later._

_            Lowering his arm to his side, Jhad allowed his eyes to readjust to his surroundings before seeking out the presence of his charge. He almost fell from his perch as his eyes found Ziendriel now standing, happily hopping up and down as she watched the great buck slowly get to its feet and trot away…._

**END FLASHBACK**

            Immediately following that incident, he had gone back to the palace to inform the king, as well as the maiden's parents. It had moved him as Lady Yalith had cried in protest, knowing their worst fears of their child possessing the very power she had been molded from, were now manifested. Lord Elrond had warned them of this possibility, that Ziendriel would become what her creator had been, therefore placing her in danger. It had been their hope that despite her unusual beginnings, Ziendriel would be nothing more than an average Elf.

            Plans were immediately laid and Ziendriel was whisked off to Rivendell where she would be safe and protected. Lord Elrond had vowed to help her harness her power as a Healer, while at the same time concealing the true extent of her capabilities. Jhad had then enlisted the help of his cousin Anárion, son of his mother's sister and resident of Rivendell, to assist him in protecting Ziendriel. It had been Lord Elrond's suggestion that Jhad stay in Mirkwood to further his training with the king's guard; it had taken hours of assurances from Lord Elrond that Ziendriel would be perfectly safe in Imladris before Jhad had finally relented.

            _She was safe in Rivendell,_ Jhad now thought as he stood vigil out on the balcony, _Her__ return to Mirkwood began the chain of events that have now brought us to this point. I wish…I wish for her sake, she had stayed in Lord Elrond's house._

            Upon her return to Mirkwood, he had easily fallen back into his role as her Guardian and continued where he had left off. He was now more confident in his commission, having spent the time training and moving up among the ranks of the king's guard. His father would have been proud, he was sure.

            It had been his idea alone to pair Legolas and Ziendriel together, but he hadn't been sure as to how. From the reports both Anárion and Lord Elrond had sent him over the years, he had been able to follow Ziendriel's progress as a Healer and as an individual. He was pleased at the attributes she displayed while there in Rivendell and did not doubt her humble disposition was due in part of her powers. She reminded him of Legolas, his friend since their childhood, but on a much quieter level. It had been an answer to a prayer when Legolas had voiced his displeasure at not being able to find a suitable mate; it had given him the opportunity to set his plan in motion. He admitted that it had not played out as smoothly as he had hoped, but it had all worked out in the end: Legolas and Ziendriel had fallen in love and married. He did not know a better ending than that.

            Except now her son has been abducted and she fainted at the news of her true self, he thought wryly, Life has decided to throw another life experience at her and I am afraid this will be her downfall.

            He grabbed the railing of the balcony tightly, his knuckles white. The guilt he felt over his inability to thus far protect Ziendriel was overwhelming and it took all his strength not to sink to his knees and weep.

            "I think she is awakening."

            Ziendriel heard those words and moaned. Her eyes felt heavy as she tried to focus her vision on the blurred images floating above her. Her head felt as if it was carved out of stone and she could not lift it no matter how hard she tried. There was a sticky film in her mouth that made her grimace when she swallowed and her ears were ringing. She felt, her head spin as she tried to remember what happened and where she was. Her hand weakly lifted from the bed and shook as she placed it to her throbbing temple. She groaned from the effort, for it felt very much like she had just lifted an entire mountain.

            "Ziendriel," a voice gently called to her, "Ziendriel, can you hear me?"

            She turned her head slightly to the voice, blinking when all she saw was more blurred shapes. She winced when the voice came again. "No need to shout!" she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut. She heard someone chuckle and perked at the familiarity of the sound. Her eyes once again opened and tried to focus on the shape hovering over her. "Legolas?" she asked, weakly.

            Legolas smiled, then turned to Velia who stood behind him. She visibly relaxed then quickly stepped to the other side of the bed and sat down. "You gave us quite a scare, meleth," he told her, chuckling. He gently brushed her cheek and rested his fingers there.

            Ziendriel stared at him, forcing her eyes to focus on his eyes. Slowly, his outline began to sharpen, until his face finally came into view. "Legolas," she said, smiling. She placed her hand over his, pressing his warm fingers against her cheek and closed her eyes. "Never have I been more pleased to see you," she told him, "Not after the horrible dream I have had."

            She did not see her husband pale at her words nor the frown that marred Velia's face. "What did you dream?" he asked her.

            Her eyes opened, revealing the dark green color that he knew so well. "I dreamt that Adrianna was returning to Mirkwood and that I was traveling to Rivendell to see her. Erundil was with me but we were attacked by a band of Men who took our son," she answered, somberly, "I then dreamed that I was not an Elf, but some sort of matter created by a great sorceress." She paused the moment she felt his fingers tense and quickly sought out his eyes. What she saw there made her heart drop. "It was not a dream, was it?" she whispered, staring intensely at him.

            Legolas found he could not return the gaze and guiltily looked away. "I am afraid it wasn't," Velia answered for him. She gently smiled at the younger woman, while patting her arm in comfort.

            Ziendriel's eyes blazed. "You knew also?" she demanded, turning her head slowly to face her. She winced at the discomfort she still felt, but ignored it. "Who else knew? It is obvious I did not, although it was a matter concerning my very existence!" Velia did not answer her, but averted her eyes.

            "I did," a new voice answered, causing Ziendriel to once more shift her head. Her eyes widened when her eyes fell upon Jhad standing in the doorway leading out onto the balcony. He saw her look of disbelief and rushed forward. "I will explain, if you allow me the chance," he offered, standing at the foot of the bed. His face was a mix of many emotions: guilt, sorrow, hope; it made her heart ache even more.

            Ziendriel blinked back the tears she felt threatening to spill over. During their entire friendship, it had been Jhad that she had trusted most after Legolas. He had never kept any secrets from before and she had offered him the same courtesy. The pain from it was overbearing. "I cannot," she said, hoarsely, "Not right now." She shook her head slightly, splashing her tears upon her pillow. "This…This is too much…" She buried her face into her pillow to muffle the sobs she had been struggling to hold back.

            Velia glanced at the prince, her eyes full of sorrow. "Let us give her a moment," she whispered to him. She stood from the bed, then waited for him to do the same. She saw Legolas hesitate for a moment, his eyes drawn to the shaking body of his wife, but he ultimately decided to grant her request. He stood from his wife's side and sighed. After a moment, he obediently led the way out of the room.

            Ziendriel waited until she heard the door close behind them before lifting her head from her pillow. With one glance she saw that she was alone and gratefully so. Rolling onto her back, she sighed. The throbbing in her head had returned and was now causing her to wince. She spoke the truth when she said the situation was becoming too much for her to comprehend. First, Erundil was ripped from her arms, despite her efforts to keep him safe. Then, her whole existence was thrown into a tailspin over the discovery that she was not an Elf but some sort of matter shaped from the power of a long-deceased sorceress. And to make matters worse, the majority of her family knew of it, yet did not tell her.

            Why? She thought to herself, Why would they not tell me? Her heart tightened at the thought of her loved ones keeping such a secret from her and she once again felt the tears stinging her eyes.

            "You are being ridiculous, Ziendriel!" she told herself, her hands swiping furiously at her tears, "It would not matter when they told me, my reaction would still be the same." Her heart sank as Thranduil's words once again drifted to her ears: Have you not guessed yet, Ziendriel? You bear the mark of Aìnu; you are the child given to the barren couple by the sorceress. "I am nothing," she whispered, a lump forming in her throat, "Nothing more than dirt to be molded." She swallowed hard, wincing at the pain in her throat as she did so.

            And now I have put Erundil, an innocent, in danger, She thought, guiltily. Images of her son flashed before her eyes, causing the sorrow she felt to expanse hundred fold. Her heart screamed in protest at the assault and she allowed her tears to finally fall freely. A torrid of emotions ran through her, making her head spin as she tried to understand and acknowledge her feelings.

            "How can I have these emotions?" Ziendriel sobbed, clutching her pillow tightly, "Are they real, for I am not. I am not what I believed myself to be for three thousand years. I am no Elf; I am merely an extension of one. Can one such as I be allowed the luxury of emotions?" The room remained silent, void of an answer, which only served to further upset her. 

            She continued to sob until she felt her tears eventually slow. Her eyes were uncomfortably puffed and slightly swollen as her sobs quieted into sniffles and her nose was pink from rubbing it so. Ziendriel slowly sat up, throwing her pillow down to the floor. Her head was beginning to throb less and the room didn't spin as much when she moved. She swung her feet over the side of the bed and sat there until her vision was no longer blurred. Hesitantly, she put both feet to the floor and slowly rose to her feet, clutching the edge of the bed to steady herself should she have the need.

            A small smile tugged at her lips as she released her death grip on her bed and found herself steady on her feet. She took a few small steps forward, testing herself and her strength. She did not know how long she had been unconscious, though judging by the way her body ached she guessed a few hours. Her legs protested as she began to slowly pace the room, but the ache she felt in them eventually ebbed away from her constant movements.

            I need to leave! She suddenly thought, stopping to stare at the doors that led out into the hallway, I cannot think in here!  The walls of the room seemed to be closing in on her, making her thoughts scatter and difficult to sort. She contemplated her situation for a moment, then decided against leaving through the doors. No doubt her family would be there, ready to pounce on her. She knew they meant well, but Ziendriel did not wish to speak with them at the moment. In a way she felt betrayed by them all, but could not really place the blame on them. She knew her family; they would not purposely hurt her. 

But it did not make it any easier to swallow the truth.

           She needed room to think, to sort her feelings out, but it could not be accomplished with her family hovering over her. If she told them she wanted to take a walk in the garden, someone would insist upon accompanying her, defeating the whole purpose of her desire to be alone. I admit I did not react well to the truth when I was told, she thought, wryly, But it is as if they anticipate I will hurt myself because of it!

            Shaking her head slightly, Ziendriel glanced about the room, searching for another exit. Her eyes fell upon the balcony and the open doors that beckoned her. Without a thought to what she now contemplated, she quickly made her way outside and glanced over the railing. "It does not look so high this time," she murmured, smiling through the discomfort of her puffed eyes being slightly tugged. It had been just a few days before that she had looked down from the very same balcony and deemed it too high.

            Her eyes spied the branch of a tree that stopped just short of the railing and followed the limb back to the trunk. The tree was only a few feet away from her and held many branches to help in her descent to the ground. It is almost like the tree outside my old room at father's house, she thought, suddenly grinning at the memories of the many times she had "escaped" from her room thanks to that tree. 

            Glancing back at the doors of the bedchambers, Ziendriel perked her ears but did not hear any evidence of being interrupted. Gracefully, she hopped up onto the railing, steadying herself with one hand pressed against the outside wall, while the other held up the hem of her dress. She sniffled as she counted silently to herself before jumping from one perch to the other, her eyes concentrated on the branch and not the ground below. She nearly screamed in delight when her feet landed solidly atop the limb without so much as a wobble, but managed to bite the exclamation back. With renewed confidence, Ziendriel walked towards the great trunk of the tree and nimbly jumped down to a lower bough. She continued hopping from branch to branch, making her way swiftly down the tree until her feet were finally on the ground below.

            She took a moment to glance back up towards her balcony, feeling her eyes widened as she realized the great distance she had managed. She would no doubt pay the consequences once Legolas discovered what she had done, but at the moment she did not care. Her concentration had been solely on her descent that she had not noticed the slight lightening of her burden on her shoulders. It did not feel so heavy outside, which lifted her spirits somewhat. She turned and quietly whispered her thanks to the tree, then turned and ran through the garden.

            If she was to accomplish what she needed to do, then it was best if she hurried. Escaping her room in the manner she'd just performed would be for naught if she was discovered now. And she could not afford that, not as her thoughts now ran unrestrained through her head. She lifted the hem of her dress higher as she ran, allowing her feet the freedom they craved. It quickened her steps and she soon found herself on the path that led her out of the garden and ended at the forest just beyond it.

            Her tears had returned, slightly blurring her vision, but she continued her way despite the minor setback. She furiously wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, her pace slowing as she did so. The images of her vision before falling unconscious rushed back to her, as well as Erundil's screams and King Thranduil's admission of her parentage. Round and round the words and images spun into her head, nipping and snapping in assault of her heart, until she finally let forth a sob and sunk to her knees. She doubled over as the tears splashed upon her dress, her body shaking with each sob. She cared not of the spectacle she made of herself nor the clamor she caused to echo in the woods. Her grief now controlled her and she succumbed to its power willingly.

            It was then that she heard her husband yelling for her, the worry in his voice mixed with his anger. Ziendriel did not pause in her grief, but did glance back. She regretted doing so when through her tears she saw him standing out on the balcony, his blue eyes bright despite the distance between them. His handsome face was dark with fury as he stared at her, no doubt cursing her for being so foolish.

            It does not matter, she thought, turning away from his piercing eyes and wiping her face dry with the sleeve of her dress. She quickly got to her feet and took off running once more. She heard Legolas give a shout of frustration, which only furthered her determination to lose herself within the forest. She did not doubt that Legolas was now after her and if she wished to gain a semblance of peace for herself, she would need all the advantages she was allowed.


	11. Chapter 10: The Chase

**A/N: I would like to give credit to where it is due for the poem I have used in this chapter. The lyrics of the song Ziendriel sings near the end of this chapter are the words to a beautiful Sindarin poem written by Thomas Ferencz entitled, _I Anda Malle._ So thank you Mr. Ferencz!**

****

**Chapter 10**

            As Legolas' shouts for Ziendriel rang through the air, Lilia rushed into the bedchambers, her face full of concern. She saw her son-in-law hurry in from the balcony, muttering a string of curses that caused her ears to burn. When his eyes fell upon her shocked face, he flushed red with embarrassment and paused in his steps. "Ziendriel has escaped," he offered, lamely.

            Lilia gasped. "How?" she demanded, rushing out onto the balcony to see the proof for herself. Once outside, she saw the running form of her eldest daughter making her way through the trees of the forest. Fear for Ziendriel suddenly ripped through her body. "Ziendriel!" she screamed at the slowly fading form, "Ziendriel! Come back!" When she saw her daughter continued on, Lilia quickly spun on her heel and ran back into the room.

            Legolas was now out in the hallway, explaining to the small crowd of family and friends what had conspired. If she hadn't been so scared, Lilia might have laughed at the shocked expressions on every face. "Legolas, she is heading southeast from the palace," she told him, joining everyone in the hallway. Jerec put a reassuring arm around her as she came to stand beside him.

            At this news, the prince nodded. "We will follow her," he said, motioning to Gragoc, Lorith and Jhad. All three nodded and moved to follow him, but was stopped by Ariel's protest.

            "Have you not considered that perhaps this is what Ziendriel needs?" the youngest Yalith child demanded. All eyes turned to her, puzzled to say the least. "I know my sister," she went on, "and I know that the last thing she desires at the moment is pursuit from family and friends who have betrayed her." Her eyes flashed at each person present, allowing them to know of her displeasure. "And I assure you," she added, icily, Ziendriel thinks of this as a betrayal."

            Lorith came to stand beside his wife. "Now is not the time, Ariel," he told her quietly, "We cannot afford to have Ziendriel wander too far into the forest. She is in no state to protect herself from the dangers of the woods…or herself." He said those last words as an afterthought, but the insinuation was all too clear.

            Ariel felt her jaw drop in disbelief. "You surmise that Ziendriel will hurt herself?" she demanded, her voice full of outrage, "How can you entertain such a thought? You may be her friend, husband, but I am her sister! I have come to know her heart as she has known mine; never would Ziendriel seek to hurt herself, no matter what news of grief or sorrow you may bring. NEVER!"

            Legolas, who had impatiently watched the exchange between his sister- and brother-in-law, felt his skin prickle from her assumption. "I assure you, Ariel," he told her coldly, "She may be your sister, but she is my _wife; if there is anyone who can lay claim to knowledge of Ziendriel's heart, it is I!"_

            "What knowledge do you speak of, milord?" Ariel shot back, blatantly ignoring the silencing looks from her parents and Lorith, "Do you mean the knowledge of the worry Ziendriel consumes herself with over the fact that you are rapidly becoming a stranger whenever Adrianna Roseleaf is mentioned? Do you know how many times she has run to me with the fear that she no longer knows you? Do you speak of the knowledge that your wife, my _sister_, is concerned that you allow your emotions to fester and grow, eating away at the part of your heart that controls the lord she has loved for the past ten years; the same lord who is fast becoming just a shadow of his true self?" She stared at him for a moment, acknowledging his bafflement before she continued. "I see from your face that you do not. So you will forgive me, milord, when I say that you speak of what you do not know!" She gave him one last withering glance before turning on her heel and stalking away.

            Legolas stared at the retreating back of his sister-in-law, his face a canvas of both shock and fury. He emitted a low growl from the back of his throat, making his frustration evident. He tired of defending his feelings towards Adrianna and what it was or was not doing to himself; it was fast becoming a struggle and annoyance to do so. He turned to his friends who had remained silent throughout the exchange. "The longer we linger here, the colder the trail of my wife grows," he told them, the determination in his eyes leaving no room for questions.

            Jhad, Gragoc and Lorith simply nodded and followed their prince through the halls of the palace. None spoke as they quickly descended the steps of the main entranceway and set out on foot towards the forest. It was a silence that was comfortable for it was the same that was present during their hunts, yet, uncomfortable for the tension that passed between them. They trekked quietly, as if stalking their prey, their footfalls silent and unannounced. From an outsider's point of view, they appeared as four Elven lords on a hunt, utilizing their skills as both archer's and warriors.

            The conflicting emotions on Legolas' face told another story. They were like the ripples found upon a stilled pond that had been disturbed: one emotion would show itself, only to be replaced by another in a heartbeat. Fear, anger, worry, guilt. All were present and revealed, despite the prince's valiant attempts to conceal them. So much had happened over the last several days but he refused to give into the despair; it was not an option. Not when his son was counting on him to save him and certainly not when his wife's sanity was slowly deteriorating before his eyes.

            Several moments passed as they headed deeper among the trees, painstakingly following the trail left by Ziendriel. Despite being an Elf, her footprints were blazoned within the earth, visible and forth telling. It reiterated the fact that the princess was not thinking clearly and had left herself open to attacks from the many dangers of Mirkwood.

            Legolas suddenly stopped, causing the three behind to stumble into his back and into each other. Confused, Jhad looked to his friend and saw him staring disbelievingly at the ground in front of him. "What is it, Legolas?" he asked, but soon found the answer to his question staring him straight in the face.

            There were no more footprints.

            Jhad glanced around and frowned. There were no trees close enough for Ziendriel to have taken flight to, nor were there any rocks or fallen tree limbs to mask her trail. The area they now stood upon was void of all these hindrances and offered little or no protection from the sun above.

            "Where could she have gone?" Gragoc asked, also glancing around. His sharp eyes took in the environment, but did not register anything that could offer them help.

            Legolas smiled wryly. "It seems my dear wife is finally making use of the skills she has been taught," he told them. His thoughts went back to the days he had spent tutoring Ziendriel on the proper strides of a hunter, remembering the laughter as she hilariously attempted to do as he instructed. She hardly took her mistakes seriously, allowing her the ability to laugh at them and herself, but at the same time kept her humble enough to take correction in stride. It had always been something he'd admired about her. His eyes wandered farther away from where they stood, slowly going over each area of ground as to not overlook anything. He heard the others spread out, each taking a different direction in their attempts to be thorough, but did not deter from his own.

            And suddenly, as if it had been there all along, despite the obvious lengths and time they had gone through, evidence of Ziendriel's path popped up in front of him, causing the prince to smile. "Clever girl," he murmured. He rushed forward to pick up the trail, calling to his friends to follow. When made aware of the masked trail, all three chuckled and agreed that the princess was indeed a clever girl.

            The sound of rushing water greeted Ziendriel's ears as she neared the edge of the forest. It was greeted with relief that allowed the stress that clutched her heart to slowly release its grip. She paused a moment from her perch high above in the trees, allowing a small breeze to play lightly across her face. She smiled as her destination peeked out among the twined branches of the great trees she had taken refuge in and hurried her steps as she once again began to leap nimbly from tree to tree.

            A burst of sunlight greeted her as she finally made her way to the forest's edge, bringing her to a place she had long ago forgotten. She gracefully swung down from her perch, landing silently beside the tree, then slowly made her way away from the forest. The sound of water was now louder as she stepped closer to it and the breeze had picked up slightly, causing her hair to whip all around her. Step after step brought Ziendriel closer and closer to her destination, to the one place she knew would give her the release she desired.

            The cliff.

            She had long ago discovered this place that overlooked one of Mirkwood's waterfalls. The farther you ventured to the cliff's edge, the better view you received of said waterfall emptying into the clear, crystal pool below. The first time she had found it had been a complete shock. She had not known (at the time) that such a thing of beauty had existed in Mirkwood. It had taken her several days to adjust to her remarkable find, but even after all these years, it still took her breath away: the waterfall, the trees rimming the small canyon that housed the pool of water, and the endless appearance of the horizon. 

            It was here, to her cliff, that Ziendriel had spent most of her childhood time before leaving for Rivendell. It had been here that she had escaped from the woes of her young heart, often burying her nose in a book clipped from her father's library. Many times had she'd run here to escape the emotional outbursts of her sister or even the prying eyes of her parents whom she knew worried she spent too much time reading than interacting with the other children.

            _Or perhaps they were worried that I would display my true self and embarrass them, she thought,__ Perhaps that is why they did not encourage me to play with the others in fear that I would do so. She paused her thoughts for a moment, then shook her head. She was being ridiculous; there was not a time that she could remember her parents feeling ashamed of her or afraid that she would indeed cause embarrassment for them. In fact, what she could remember was the encouragement from the both of them to develop herself and her interests, no matter what it was. The only one major concern she could recall was that she would simply be overlooked, cloaked in the shadow of Ariel's beauty._

            "Instead, I am pushed to the forefront with the sun cast upon me, begging to be stared upon and whispered about," Ziendriel muttered, forlornly gazing out at the mist rising up from the pool below, her thoughts once again returning to the discovery of her connection to the Elven sorceress, "Can anyone truly understand that which I now experience: to not know of your true self after living for so long? How does one cope with this knowledge, this revelation of truth? By definition I am no Elf, yet I display all the makings of one. I have bled, I have cried; I have been given the gift of an Elfling as my own, but does that make me such as I appear? Does all of it make me the Elf that I have believed myself to be after all this time?"

            Only the wind answered her, causing her to close her eyes as it rushed all around her, as if caressing her with invisible fingers that comforted her with its feathery touch. When it drifted away, Ziendriel opened her eyes once more, staring at the beauty surrounding her. "Can no one answer me?" she whispered, feeling the sting of a lone tear slide down upon her tear-stained cheek.

            The rushing water of the waterfall was her only answer.

            Legolas hopped from one perch, gracefully running along one tree bough then to another. He was still impressed with the ingenuity Ziendriel had displayed to continually throw him from her trail, but he was also alarmed at the clarity such cleverness displayed. If indeed she now had a cleared head upon her shoulders, it worried him if she would continue with her plan of escape, whatever it might be. He did not know what she had planned in the moments he had left the room and she had climbed down from the balcony, but the possibilities of what she might do did not sit well with him.

            _Perhaps Ariel is right, he thought__, continuing his journey through the trees, _Perhaps I have been so caught up in my own troubles that I am no longer recognizable to my wife. I know it has made my heart unable to recognize hers; I cannot even tell the intent with which she has formulated her escape!__

            He stopped for a moment and turned to inspect the progress of his companions. Across the way, Jhad and Gragoc had stopped in a tree several feet away and were now looking for the next clue as to Ziendriel's whereabouts. Lorith had joined Legolas on the other side and now joined his brother-in-law on his perch.

            "She has gotten much faster over the years," Lorith now commented, grinning as he retraced their path. In an attempt to confuse them (for it was obvious that she knew they closely pursued her), Ziendriel had painstakingly run amuck through the forest, running lightly on the ground, climbing into the trees and running along them, only to hop down to the ground seconds later and repeat the whole process. Had they not had their combined forces, they would have definitely been lost among the spontaneous twists and turns the princess left for them.

            Legolas nodded. "She has been holding back," he answered, slightly shaking his head, "I knew she had great potential when we first started her lessons, but she is surprisingly exceeding my expectations. She has taken that which we have taught her and used it in her favor.…until now." He gave Lorith a smug look, which made him chuckle.

            "It is not fair considering you hold experience over her," Lorith told him, grinning, glad to have the mood lifted if but for a moment, "There was no doubt in my mind that you would find her, but you must admit that she did give us a good run." He motioned back to the woods with a slight cock of his head.

            "That she did, Lorith," Legolas admitted, returning the grin, "But I'm afraid it will end all too soon for our dear Ziendriel's liking." His eyes once more searched the area around him until he found yet another print of his wife's footprints, much like the one that had started them on their jumbled pursuit. Despite her light footsteps upon the ground, Ziendriel had managed to procure some of the earth upon her shoes, causing them to leave a mark no matter where she ran. The first mark had been half of her print on a tree several feet away from where her footfalls had stopped, indicating her flight among the trees. From there it had not been hard to track her, not once they knew what to look for.

            Their pursuit now led them to a clearing, evident through the branches of the trees. Sounds of a waterfall drifted towards them as they came closer, following Ziendriel's  path towards the edge of the forest. They found themselves perched on different branches of the same tree, their eyes glued to the lone figure of Mirkwood's princess near the edge of a cliff that allowed a spectacular vantage point of their home. They silently watched as she stood there, her back straight and proud, her head slightly thrown back as the wind caught her hair, causing the silken tendrils to stream out behind her. They saw her take a deep breath, then in a clear, silvery voice sing the words:

_Warmth has passed from the world. Stop, my legs! No more today.  
The dust swirls above my head, my sinews shake a bit,  
both rest then. The Sun crumbles, and floats tired beyond the mountains.  
Stars icily glitter in the sky with their cruel light.  
A sad vision of my self long years ago (or was it ages?)  
trembles in the air among the trees. I shut my eyes.  
It is enough to see the end of the journey all the time. It dangles   
in the rear of my mind every day. Rest,  
my mind, rest! Nothing remains but resolve.  
They say, the Elves praise the stars. I myself dread  
their endless glare, for my will collapses  
under that cold perfection. The words, my message  
to utter have abandoned me when the first faint glitter  
of fear fell on my head. The dire message,  
to tell the Valar that life is defeated, all  
the Elves are gone, the Dwarves lie dead  
deep under rocks too heavy to heave,  
and countless Morgoths have arisen. Perhaps  
it is proper that my tongue is knotted  
for when I say the words, the roots of the world  
will surely crumble crying, and the Void covers all.  
  
But alas! still  
the ship waits there in that harbour far away, that   
I will never find. Or so it seems. _

  
            Mesmerized by the sweet melody that drifted along the wind, all four did not notice when she had finished. The trees sang with the echo of her voice, making the song endless as she once again gazed at the land before her. Never had they'd heard Ziendriel sing nor had she'd ever given them reason to speculate that she could not. She had simply never offered and they had never pushed, knowing of her desire to shy away from attention. But to have just witnessed what they had…it was a thing of pure beauty, sung with such feeling and emotions that transcended anything they had ever felt before.

            Such were their thoughts that they did not register the sudden movement of the princess until it was too late. Turning suddenly upon her heel, Ziendriel began to walk calmly towards the forest, as if coming to greet them. Her eyes sparkled in the sunlight, unblinking as she continued closer. Several feet away from them, she suddenly turned back towards the cliff, took a deep breath, then broke out into a full run.

            Leaping down from his perch, Legolas stumbled to the ground, the sudden realization of his wife's actions hindering his grace. He quickly got to his feet and took a few steps forward despite the growing horror that pulsed through his body, knowing he was too late to do anything.

            In pure and utter terror, Legolas watched as Ziendriel, his beloved wife and soul mate, in all the grace and beauty she possessed, threw herself over the edge of the cliff and disappeared from sight.

            Ziendriel smiled as she felt the air rush around her as she fell, and closed her eyes. Already her heart had been released from the doubt and trouble she felt and her shoulders were void of the heaviness that once weighed there; freed by the words of the song she had sung, for she could empathize the despair and sorrow felt behind such lyrics, with that which she now faced. Somewhere above her, she heard the anguish cry of her husband, but did not feel any sorrow for what she had just done. _Soon, my love, you will understand, _she thought,as her eyes opened and was met with the image of the ground below, rushing up to meet her.

            Leaving Jhad to comfort the distraught prince, Lorith and Gragoc ran to the edge of the cliff, and watched Ziendriel fall. Both felt nauseated as they realized the trajectory of her leap pinpointed her among the pool's rock-covered banks, then gave thanks to Elbereth that Legolas was not beside them. Jhad had now joined them, but looked oddly calm as his eyes fell upon the princess, which only made the two stare at him curiously.

            "Watch," he merely said, as if reading their minds; he nodded towards Ziendriel. The two did as he suggested, puzzled but nonetheless turned their heads. Their eyes widened when they saw Ziendriel's body, with a small movement of her arms, shot forward, bypassing the pool's banks and gracefully diving into the cool, clear water below. A moment later, her head broke through the water's surface and she began to do a leisurely backstroke.

            Gragoc shook his head in disbelief. "It would have been better if she had died," he murmured to Lorith, who nodded his understanding at such a statement, "For Legolas will kill her once she is within his grasp!" He turned towards the prince who was now standing on the other side of Lorith and shook his head once more.

            Legolas was seething, his face turning an ugly shade of purple as he watched Ziendriel swimming. She swam as if she had not a care in the world nor did she seem aware of the fact that she had just given her husband a near-fatal heart attack by leaping off a cliff. He watched her a moment longer before turning back to his friends. "Find a way down there. NOW!" he growled, making the three jump.

            They quickly obeyed, cringing inwardly at the wrath Ziendriel would soon feel from her husband.


	12. Chapter 11: Reunion

**Chapter 11**

            Ziendriel peacefully floated on her back, allowing the cool water to wash over her skin. With the sun blazing down upon her, the water was the perfect temperature and felt refreshing. She drifted along the tiny current the waterfall provided, staring contentedly up into the brilliant blue sky, watching as soft, white clouds glided by. She felt peaceful and calm, more so than she had ever been in the past several days; she hoped this newfound tranquility would accompany her once she left the serenity of her haven.

            Movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention, causing her head to slightly roll to the right. She sighed as the figure of Legolas came into focus, carefully but swiftly making his way down the old path that lined its course down the cliff, followed by those of her their friends. She did not need to look upon her husband's face to know that he was furious with her actions; if the roles had been reversed there was no doubt in her mind that Legolas would surely be dead, strangled by her own hand. She just hoped she could make him understand her reasoning behind such measures.

            Sighing once more, Ziendriel rolled over onto her stomach and slowly swam towards the shore. Halfway there, she saw the men step off the path and make their way towards the pool. Legolas took his stance close to the water's edge, silently waiting for her while the others discreetly stood a few feet back. She did not take that as a very good sign.

            When her feet finally touched the rocky bottom of the tarn, Ziendriel waded her way towards Legolas, keeping her eyes averted from his for an incensed storm raged there. In an effort to further avoid those frightening orbs, she gathered the soaked material of her dress and threw it over one arm, allowing her legs to continue uninhibited through the water.

            Legolas watched as his wife made her way towards him, amused more than anything at the way she purposely avoided his eyes. Oh, he was angry with her—furious in fact—but did not wish for her to know it. In some small form he could understand the confusion that now waged war against her soul, but in no way could he understand what she had just done to alleviate it!

            "She's done it countless times before," Jhad had told him as they had made their way down the path, "During my earlier years of observing her, I've witnessed it many times. Apparently, it is her way of releasing tension."

            _How does flying off of a cliff relieve tension? Legolas wondered, perplexed, _I would think it would only further any anxieties a person already has. Does she even fathom the distance she has just fallen?_ He dared not look back to confirm the height of such a cliff, but instead kept his eyes to Ziendriel. She had finally entered the shallow water and walked directly towards him, her eyes fastened to an object behind him. It was one of her tricks that he had learned early on in their relationship, a sign that she was truly nervous. He smirked as he held out a hand to help her onto the rocky shore._

            Ziendriel accepted his offer, firmly grasping his hand with her own and allowed him to gently pull her towards him, yet keeping her eyes turned away. She gasped softly when she felt herself lightly pressed against his broad chest, dampening his tunics with her wet form. Instinctively, she looked at him, her hand still grasping his.

            "Feeling better?" he asked, the chill in his voice causing her to shiver. Stunned, Ziendriel simply stared at him, disbelieving his tone. Never had Legolas spoken so coldly, so distantly in all the time they had been together. It was not right coming from such a loving and experienced Elf and it did not sit well with her.

            However, all that was pushed from her mind as she suddenly remembered exactly why her husband now talked to her thus and Ziendriel felt her annoyance prickle. She was sorry he did not understand why she had done what she had, but the truth was, she did because she _needed to! If she hadn't escaped from the room and later dived off of her cliff, she would no doubt be on the brink of insanity, taking those around with her. And them where would Erundil be? __Lost in the world of Men, wondering why I have abandoned him, she thought, grimly. She shook her head, refocusing her gaze and thoughts on her husband. She stared at him, her eyes flashing dangerously, her lips pursed in a thin line. "Yes," she answered, icily, yanking her hand from his, "_Thank you."__

            Legolas started at the heavy sarcasm in her voice, allowing her the opportunity to walk away from him. He heard Gragoc snort in disbelief as the others simply stared, shocked. The only other time he had ever seen Ziendriel's eyes flash so brilliantly had been the day she had confronted him about the silly bet the others had made. It had been years ago, a stupid wager, really, that the others had agreed to help him find a suitable mate. Ziendriel had been suggested and because of her obviously different views on the Elven lords of the kingdom, Legolas had been intrigued. It had led to him seeking her out while his three friends had wagered just how far into Ziendriel's good graces he could gain. She had been furious, to say the least, upon the bet's discovery.

            Recovering himself, Legolas turned towards her retreating figure and called out, "I am not finished speaking with you, wife!" He quickly walked after her, his long strides bringing them even. His hand shot out to grasp her firmly by the arm.

            Ziendriel violently yanked her arm free and whirled around to face him, which only served to further shock Lorith, Gragoc and Jhad. "Do not touch me!" she hissed, her eyes still blazing bright, "What gives you that right?" She could see the shocked faces of their friends as they watched the encounter unfold. At this point, she did not care; all of the peace and serenity she had finally obtained was slowly being drained away.

            Legolas stared hard at her, his frown deepening the lines around his mouth and on his forehead. "I am your husband!" he told her, seething, "I have every right to touch my wife!" He tired of the belligerence being displayed by his once docile wife and did not care much for the change.

            She suddenly laughed, the sound so bitter that Legolas winced. "'Wife'?" she repeated, incredulously, "'Wife'? I do believe you are in much more denial than I, _husband_!" Sarcasm dripped heavily from the title. "Do you not remember what has transpired this day? I have been found out to be a fraud, a ruse! I am no Elf, do you not understand that? I am nothing more than a ghost, a shadow of an Elf! And if you lay claim to that…you are sadly confused by the deception you have agreed to take part of!"

She turned away from him, cursing quietly as she felt the tears blur her vision once more.

            Legolas stared at her trembling back and tentatively reached out to touch her. His fingers met with one of her many strands of hair, saturated with the cool forest water. He lightly rubbed the black silk in between his fingers and heavily sighed. "Ziendriel," he whispered.

            He heard her gasp, then pull away from him, her hair slipping from his grasp. He took a step towards her, but was stopped by a hand to his chest. "Please, Legolas," she whispered, slightly pushing him back as she half turned to face him, "There is much for me to understand that I fear I never will nor do I know what this means concerning you and I. I have accepted the truth of my parentage, but that is all I am capable of doing thus far. Please accept that; you can ask no more of me." She looked to him them, the belligerence now replaced with such pleading that Legolas felt his heart tighten. 

            "I say this not to confuse you, _meleth," he told her softly, as he gently cupped her chin. He was encouraged when she did not pull away. "None of this changes what I feel for you. Not here." He placed his hand to his chest. "Nothing will ever change the fact that you are my heart, my very life. You are as real to me as the sun and the stars, as the trees that now surround us. Ruse or not, Ziendriel, you are my wife, the love that I knew not was missing from my life…until I found you."_

            Ziendriel stared at him, speechless. Her husband's heartfelt admission left her in tears that streamed down her cheeks and dropped down upon her already soaked dress. She sniffled, then furiously wiped at her cheeks. After all the crying and rubbing she had done that day, her cheeks were now sorely chapped and raw, allowing her salty tears to sting.

            She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by someone calling out to Legolas. They all looked up to find one of the royal couriers swiftly making his way down to them, the urgency pronounced upon his face. They walked towards him, meeting him near the bottom of the path.

            "Your Highness," the courier greeted, bowing deeply to Legolas, then to Ziendriel. He paused for a moment, his eyes puzzled at the state of the princess, but was prompted to continue with a discreet cough from Jhad. "Urgent news, milord," the courier announced, "Word has been sent that Lady Adrianna Roseleaf has been admitted within the boundaries of the kingdom. She claims to have important news for the Princess." His eyes once again wandered to Ziendriel, curious as to her water-soaked appearance.

            She, however, did not notice. "Know you of this news?" she asked, puzzled. No word had been sent to Rivendell of the cancellation of her arrival, but Ziendriel doubted it could have gotten there considering the time frame of their departure and the attack by the Men. It took a messenger almost a week to reach Rivendell from Mirkwood and the attack had only occurred a few days ago.

            The courier shook his head. "She would not say, milady," he answered, "But, she should be arriving within the hour. The king has sent me to escort you back."

            Legolas shook his head. "We will escort the princess back," he told him, "You, however, will hurry ahead and tell Depa to prepare a bath for the Lady." He waited until the courier bowed and scurried back up the path before turning back to his wife and friends. "We should hurry," he told them. He was curious as to what the young Lady Roseleaf needed to impart to Ziendriel that was so important and why Adrianna was now here in Mirkwood when she should be in Rivendell, waiting for her audience with his wife.

            They all nodded and began to climb the path in a single line with Gragoc leading and the rear brought up by Lorith. Legolas followed behind Gragoc, his hand firmly grasping Ziendriel's as he helped her up the sloping trail, while Jhad openly announced his station as the princess' guardian by taking his place behind her. They silently ascended the path, eventually reaching the top of the cliff and turned wordlessly into the forest. The ground had now leveled out, causing the four Elven lords to change formation, surrounding the princess on every side. If she hadn't been so amused at their obvious thoughts of preventing her from running again, Ziendriel would have felt insulted.

            Nonetheless, she continued to follow Legolas' lead, for he had yet to release her from his grip, but remained silent on the fact. His words still rang in her ears, but her heart was not yet ready to hear them. She would need time to—

            The roar in her ears assaulted her so suddenly, that Ziendriel stumbled, causing her to fall to her knees. She knew what this meant, but was startled at the intensity and speed in which it came to her; it was so unlike the other times her visions had plagued her.

            Legolas felt his arm tugged back as Ziendriel stumbled and immediately focused his eyes on her. He saw she was now on her knees with a dazed look upon her face. "Ziendriel?" he said, kneeling before her, "Ziendriel?" When she gave no response, he took her gently by the shoulders and slightly shook her. Still no response. "Ziendriel!" he shouted, shaking her even harder as the worry crept into his voice.

            The Princess of Mirkwood, however, was oblivious to this, as well as to the anxiety present on her guardian and her friends. She focused her entire being on the vision that now rushed to her, flashing its images before her eyes…

            _Adrianna made her way towards the steps of the main entrance to the king's hall, pulling up her steed just short of the bottom stair. In one swift motion, she swung one leg over and dismounted, then gathered the hem of her dress as she began to quickly climb the steps._

_            From out of her hiding spot within the dark stairwell, Elyse threw herself at the maiden that entered the main hall, her fists curled as she beat upon the unsuspecting arrival. Screams of both outrage and surprise echoed in the corridor as the two maidens fell to the floor with Elyse refusing to halt her attack, even as the guards attempted to pull her off the now sobbing Adrianna…._

            The vision abruptly ended, leaving Ziendriel loudly gasping for air. Her breathing came in quick, short breaths as her chest heaved with each one. Her eyes wildly glanced around, her fingers painfully clutching Legolas' arms, waiting for her eyes to once again focus. She saw the anxious face of her husband come into view, saw his lips moving but not hearing his words of concern. Her brow furrowed as she strained to hear him, even as her eyes blinked in confusion.

            "Ziendriel!" Legolas now shouted, but no longer shaking her. His worry increased when she merely stared at him, her expression one of bewilderment. He glanced at Jhad, who had retained his usual calm manner, and was staring curiously at Ziendriel. "What is it, Jhad?" Legolas demanded.

            "Wait a moment," Jhad murmured, also kneeling beside the princess. Lorith and Gragoc stepped closer, and watched as Jhad began to lightly massage Ziendriel's ears. All watched in fascinating silence as Jhad continued his ministrations, saw Ziendriel's puzzlement at his actions slowly dissolve into gratitude. When she gave him a slight nod, he paused. "Better?" he asked.

            Again, Ziendriel nodded. "Much," she answered, lightly touching an ear. The light buzzing in her ears had disappeared and her hearing had returned. "How did you know that would work?" she asked, curiously.

            Jhad gave her a small smile, hesitating in his answer. "It was something my grandfather did for…the sorceress," he replied, uncertain that she would wish to hear this, "When she….received her visions." He watched carefully for her reaction and was not surprised when she guiltily looked away from him. "Her hearing sometimes left her during those times," he added

            "Visions?" Legolas repeated, completely baffled. He looked first to Jhad, then to Ziendriel. When she could not meet his questioning gaze, he softly asked, "Why did you not tell me, _melamin_?" How long had she kept this from him? Surely she knew she could come to him with anything? Why not this?

            Ziendriel kept her eyes averted. "I did not wish to burden you with it," she answered, nervously picking at the skirt of her dress, "I did not understand what they were or what they meant until now. I truly thought they would disappear over time, but instead they have increased in both number and intensity."

            Legolas frowned, realizing her words suggested that these visions had been plaguing his wife longer than she would admit. He opened his mouth to voice his displeasure of her secrecy when she interrupted him. "Do not feel indignant, Legolas!" she told him, exasperated, "At this point, it would be hypocritical for you to feel such betrayal of this secret when you, yourself, have done the same." She sighed and slightly shook her head. "We should return to the hall," she added, getting to her feet, then unsuccessfully brushed at the leaves and dirt that clung to her damp dress, "Adrianna will be here soon."

            Legolas, who had been rendered speechless by her outburst, paused for a moment to regard her, then also stood. He silently nodded to their companions, then turned back to his wife, only to find Ziendriel already walking away.

            Once Ziendriel had convinced Depa that she did not a bath (for the water in the pool had been refreshing and clean), the handmaiden set off to dress the princess for the arrival of Lady Roseleaf. She rushed to the armoire in search of a suitable dress, frowning in disapproval when she saw the state of her lady's attire. The gown was wet and saturated, as well as smeared with dirt and leaves. She had heard of the mistress' earlier escape, but never thought she would tromp through the forest like a carefree Elfling. And why were the dress _and_ the princess soaked thoroughly? Depa was curious but dared not ask, for the solemnity on Ziendriel's face made her hesitate. Instead, she finished dressing the princess, then set to untangle her long mane that had been blotted by a towel.

            A few moments later, Depa was finished and stepped back to admire her handiwork. The princess was once again in a dress suitable for her station, one made with the softest material of dark green that perfectly complimented her eyes. Her hair had been brushed until it was dry and was now tumbling freely down her back. The long tendrils were held back from her face by a braid on each side and joined into one at the back of her head. Her face was flushed and full of color, causing her skin to slightly glow.

            "You are ready, milady," Depa announced, curtseying.

            Ziendriel stared at her reflection in the mirror for a moment, then deeply sighed. "Thank you, Depa," she said, slowly getting to her feet. She removed herself from the vanity and made to exit the room, but was stopped by the servant.

            "Milady, if I may be so bold," Depa began, nervously, "I know that the abduction of the young prince has weighed heavily on your mind, as well as your heart. I also know that I am but a mere maid in your service. But, I offer my capacities as a friend to you now, that you might know that I wish to help, should you desire." She blushed, then quickly bowed her head. The princess had always been kind to her, but she guessed that as a servant, she must have crossed some line of inappropriateness.

            Ziendriel softly smiled. "Thank you, Depa," she told her, taking the shocked servant's hand in hers, "Know that your services and your friendship are greatly appreciated." She gently squeezed her hand as a gesture of her gratitude.

            Depa blushed harder and kept her eyes averted as she took her leave. Ziendriel waited until she had left before glancing at herself in her mirror once more. Since she had been told the truth, she had avoided her reflection at all costs. This was truly the first time she had bothered to see herself and she suddenly took comfort in the fact that she did not appear any different than before. The eyes that stared back at her were the ones she had always seen and the face that she saw was filled with the familiar features she had long ago claimed as her own. It was if the only apparent changes were the ones that occurred within her.

            "This is all too confusing," she murmured to her reflection. She spoke the truth, for though she did not see the affects of her newfound parentage had on her physical being, there surely was turmoil within her heart and soul. She wondered how long this tumult of emotions would rage within her and could only hope it would end soon.

            Taking a deep, calming breath, Ziendriel finally turned away from her mirror and made her way to the doors of her bedchambers. She quickly pulled open the doors and stepped out into the hallway, grateful that it was deserted. After returning to the palace, Ziendriel had managed to convince Legolas and the others that she would only be a moment as she changed, and told them to wait for her in the throne room. If the circumstances had been different, she was positive that they would all be sharing a good laugh over the day's events.

            Wanting to be there when Adrianna finally arrived, Ziendriel quickened her step as she hurried down the hall. Though no one would dare attack Adrianna outright, she knew that there were still many who would not hesitate to replace the hospitality of the Elves for something less civil. With that thought and the memory of her earlier vision,, she hastened even faster, holding tight to the rail of the staircase as she descended, not wanting to tumble down the hard steps.

            She had just stepped onto the main floor and rounded the corner when she saw Adrianna appear within the arch of the main entrance. The maiden paused in her steps as her eyes fell upon the princess, the shock clearly written all over her face. Ziendriel smiled at her alarm and did not hesitate to raise her arm in greeting. Adrianna continued to stare at her, unsure of what to do next. Only when Ziendriel moved towards her, did Adrianna shyly return the smile and step further into the hall.

            From out of nowhere, a blur of blue came charging at the preoccupied Adrianna, knocking her to the ground. Ziendriel stopped, shocked at such a sudden event, then took off running towards the scene. Her path took her past the open doors to the throne room and she had but a moment to shout to the small gathering within. "Guards!" she shouted, but did not stop. She had a brief glimpse of several guards come charging out of the room and following her down the hall.

            Adrianna was now screaming for help. Ziendriel attempted to pull the attacker from her pleading victim, and was shocked to learn the assault was made by Elyse Silverstream! Grabbing the counselor's daughter firmly by the arms, Ziendriel pulled her back, only to receive a sound slap across her face.

            The guards were upon Elyse immediately, grabbing her roughly and yanking her off of Adrianna. The maiden did not cease her screaming as they did so, cursing and kicking her legs at the shaken form of Adrianna. Her blonde hair was now mussed and wild, an unusual look for someone such as her, who took the time to assure her physical appearance. Her eyes of blue blazed with the fury of a woman scorned and her face was completely flushed.

            Ziendriel glanced at Elyse, appalled at such behavior, then turned back to Adrianna. She knelt down beside her, and offered her a hand. "It is not the welcoming I had hoped to give you, Lady Roseleaf," she said, her eyes twinkling, "But, welcome home to Mirkwood, milady."

            Adrianna took her hand and wiped her tears away with the other as she shakily got to her feet. "Thank you, your Highness," she said, curtseying slightly.

            "How can you welcome her like that?" Elyse screamed to Ziendriel as she struggled with the guards, "After all that has been done, why do accept her so willing back into your home?" By now, the rest of the crowd from the throne room had joined them in the hall and was now witnessing the appalling scene there.

            Ziendriel regarded her coldly. "I would have thought that by now you would know that you and I are as different as the day and night, Elyse," she told her, "And that it does not make you privy to my thoughts and emotions. I am not like you, Elyse, nor would I desire it to be so. I have found the peace that forgiveness grants, which makes me able to face my actions at the end of each day. You, on the other hand….no, I will not say, for it will bring me to the level in which you fester and sulk in. And, from your expression, it is not a place I would freely go." She gently took Adrianna by the arm and led her away from Elyse, who was now muttering under her breath. That is, until one of the guards issued a low warning.

            "Are you alright, Adrianna?" Ziendriel asked, once Elyse had been escorted away. She found an empty bench just beyond the entrance and gently seated the shaken maiden upon it. Except for a few red marks from Elyse's random hits, there was no other evidence of her assault.

            Adrianna weakly smiled. "You have saved me yet again, your Highness," she said, still trembling from her ordeal, "You must give me the chance to break even with you. If you do not, I fear I will never get the opportunity!"

            Ziendriel giggled. "Put it from your mind, Adrianna," she pleaded, "I beg of you! Let us not talk of such things! Besides," she added, turning her eyes towards the crowd regarding them curiously, "I believe there are more important matters to be attended to at the moment."

            Adrianna looked curiously at her, then followed her line of sight. She gasped when she saw her mother and father standing there. "_Adar!__ Atara!" she exclaimed, leaping to her feet. She moved to greet them, then hesitated for a moment, unsure of their feelings towards her._

            Anvanime Roseleaf burst into tears. "_Iell (daughter)!" she sobbed, rushing forward to catch Adrianna in her arms. She wrapped her arms tightly around the younger she-Elf, showering her with kisses on her cheeks. "You are here!" she exclaimed in between kisses, "You are really here!"_

            Adrianna laughed happily. "Mother! Enough!" she exclaimed, giggling. She hugged her tightly then kissed her soundly on the cheek. Her eyes found those of her father and softly smiled at him. "_Ada__?" she called softly, hopefully. She held out her hand to him._

            Lord Roseleaf stared at her for a moment, the tears shining in his eyes. He wanted to savor the image of his daughter as he saw her now, in this moment, looking happier than he had ever seen her before. It was as if a dark cloud had lifted itself from around her and allowed her form to be bathed in the brilliance of the sun. His heart tightened as he saw her eyes, identical to his own, wet with tears but brightly lit with the happiness she felt. Her beauty, her true beauty now shone forth, causing his heart to burst with pride.

            "_Iell__ melui (sweet daughter)_! _" he exclaimed, rushing forward and catching both his wife and only child into his arms, determined to never let them go._

            Ziendriel urged the remainder of the crowd back into the throne room, allowing the Roseleaf family a moment of privacy. Those present were, of course, the king, Legolas, the three Masters of Mayhem, and her family. All had been anticipating the arrival of Adrianna within the throne room and had been surprised at her unusual entrance via Elyse Silverstream.

            With the exception of Ziendriel, they all paced the floor of the throne room, impatient to discover the news Adrianna had deemed so important to reveal. She had, after all, left Rivendell despite her request for Ziendriel to meet with her there, and by the looks of her worn dress, had done so with the utmost sense of urgency.

            "I would really like to know what this important news she has," Ariel was now mumbling as she paced in front of her sister. She was frowning, which made Ziendriel involuntarily smile. Patience and waiting had never been one of Ariel's strong suits and it was showing very clearly at the moment.

            The others present murmured their agreements to the statement. What could possibly have made Adrianna flee Rivendell with only the dress she wore and a small pack of food found on her steed?

            As if hearing the unspoken question, Adrianna suddenly rushed into the throne room, her eyes wildly searching among those there. Behind her, her parents followed, the worry pronounced upon their faces. Ziendriel stepped forward, concerned at the agitated state of all three. It was she whom Adrianna sought, for in the instant she stepped forward, Adrianna rushed towards her.

            Legolas and his friends tensed, their hands going immediately for their blades. Each had thought the same consideration, that Adrianna had somehow fooled Lord Elrond into believing she was cured, only to flee his house and return to Mirkwood, to once again harm Ziendriel.

            All had the same thought, but was stopped from further action by Adrianna's next words as she clutched the hands of the princess and stared steadfastly into her eyes: 

            "I know who has taken your son."


	13. Chapter 12: A Most Welcome Newcomer

**A/N: Yeah, yeah. I _know_ this chapter has taken a long time. But it's here now, right? And if you're all still wondering why it took me so long, I'll post a list of reasons on the reviews (if you actually care, lol!).**

**Nessie: Thanks for the heads up on the lord of Rivendell thing. I did know, but Elrond is one of my favorite characters so I decided to put him in the story just because!**

Thanks to everyone else for the rest of my reviews and for waiting patiently. 

****

**Chapter 12**

            For four days straight, Erundil, son of Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, had kept his fear from rising in his throat as he sat, bound and gagged, upon the steed of the Man called Tiruc. To keep his mind from thinking the worst of his situation, the young Elf concentrated on the many times he unsteadily bounced in the uncomfortable saddle. Fortunately forhim and his wandering mind, he was almost thrown from the horse with each step, allowing his dark thoughts and fears to be pushed frome the forefront of his head.

            _This horse is most definitely not descended from the Mearas, Erundil thought, wryly as his head snapped back from the burst of speed as the horse shot forward, _Nor does she have the speed and grace of Atara's steed! Vanesse would surely be a better ride than this lump of flesh! _At the thought of his mother's horse, the Elfling giggled softly, catching the attention of Tiruc._

            The Man glanced curiously at the Elf child. "What amuses thee so, little one?" he asked. Despite the rough ride, the child had remained silent since beginning their journey from the great Anduin River. It was actually the first Tiruc had heard a single sound from the Elfling since that time.

            Truthfully, Tiruc had not been dwelling on the child or his lack of sounds. It was thoughts of the child's mother that had filled his head, pushing their way towards the very forefront of his mind. With each second that passed, the memory of her long, dark hair (a curious wonder for he had always thought Elves to be golden-haired!) shifting in the breeze, her face radiant in the sun as her eyes of green flashed at him. She was a beautiful creature, an enchantress among her kind, for he knew he was well under the influence of her grace. It was no wonder he had not seen an Elf in his youth, for surely the stirring in his loins would no doubt be stronger than that which he now felt.

            Erundil did not turn to meet the eyes of his captor, but instead focused ahead on the horizon. They had long ago abandoned the cover of the forest and now traveled openly under the sky. It had been mainly with this focal point that the young prince had kept his fears at bay. He had been too occupied with trying to identify the tiny specks that dotted the horizon to be swallowed by his fears. But, even that was beginning to become a chore, for Tiruc was too close and his thoughts loud. Even as young as he was, Erundil could pick up on the Man's thoughts and disliked what he could decipher. A frown marred his fair face as thought after thought of this Man's lust for his mother came rushing towards him. It disgusted Erundil to know that this mortal would dare think of his mother in such an inappropriate way! She was a princess of a great Elven kingdom; even he, a child, knew that such thoughts were not shared among Elves for their immortality made them immune to such acts of lust!

            Tiruc frowned when the child did not answer him. In all truth, he was not an evil man nor was he susceptible to the violent behavior displayed upon the child's capture. In hindsight, it had frightened even him; the way he had attacked the child's mother had not been logical, but primal. He wholly believed in his brethren's grand scheme and did not take the she-Elf's obstruction too kindly. His assault on the Elves had been, on his part, indignation that an Elf –a female, no less- would stand in the way of his people's salvation.

            He knew that the child was frightened, Elf or not. _What child would not be? He wondered, continuing his steed's fast pace,_ To be taken from his mother in such a way as we have taken him, there is no doubt the child would indeed be terrified!_ He was also confident that it was he whom the young one feared, for it had been Tiruc who had lunged for the child even as his mother had shielded him._

            Hesitantly, Tiruc leaned down towards his captive and whispered, kindly, "You need not fear me, little one. I will not harm you." He felt the tiny body stiffen at his words and frowned once more. He could not blame the Elf for not believing him, for his actions did speak louder than words. And his measures most definitely screamed of mistrust!

            For his part, Erundil was indeed frightened as Tiruc suspected. He was far from home and in territory he had never before laid eyes upon. He had often listened to his father's stories of his travels with the Fellowship and had prayed to the Valar on more than one occasion to be granted the opportunity to see the land as his father had. Unfortunately, he had no desire to see it now, in the current circumstances.

            From what he could understand, the Men were taking him to a land far, far away from his home. He had never heard of this land called Yelren, nor of these brutes that held him captive. His tutors may have possibly mentioned these Men during one of his many lessons, but Erundil could not be sure. In truth, he found many of the history tutorials boring and uninteresting for his tastes. He knew his mother would frown upon such a discovery for she devoured the books within the studies of both of his grandfathers, but these things just did not appeal to him. His interests ran along the same lines as his father's, for Erundil was a Mirkwood Elf: a love of nature and archery ran deep within his veins, making his heart no longer capable of holding anything else so close.

            He had spent the last few days studying the scenery around him, looking for landmarks to indicate the way home, should he gain an opportunity to run. As Elf eyes measured, Erundil had vision that could rival his father's. Unfortunately, because of his inexperience, he could not process his surroundings quick enough to make sense of anything he saw.

            _Why hasn't Father come for me yet? He thought to himself, despair once again washing over his heart despite his efforts of prevention,_ Surely Atara has told him what has happened! Where is he? _With each and every passing day that he remained captive, Erundil could feel his heart falling deeper into despair. His father was the best warrior in all of Mirkwood (everyone agreed to it), but the farther these Men were allowed to venture, the colder their trail would grow; even he knew that!_

            A sudden bolt from the horse caused the Elfling to bounce hard in his seat, jarring him from his thoughts. Ears pricked his eyes from the pain, but mixed with those from fear. _Ada__, where are you?_

            Ziendriel pulled tightly on Vanesse's mane, crying out as pain exploded from behind her eyes. Sensing her mistress' despair, the horse reared up and neighed, alerting the rest of their company to halt. The mare stood perfectly still as Ziendriel clutched her head, groaning softly from the assault upon her mind.

            _Ada__, where are you? The voice of her son ripped through Ziendriel's head, loud and reverberating against her skull. She could clearly hear the fear and misery within the little one's voice and winced from the pain she felt from it._

            Legolas suddenly appeared at her side and hesitantly touched her shoulder. He anticipated the rejection of such an action from his wife, for it had become commonplace for her to pull away from him whenever he ventured to touch her. He was somewhat relieved when she allowed his hand to remain on her shoulder, but knew that it was because she now concentrated on the pain she was now experiencing. "Ziendriel, what is wrong?" he asked, alarmed. He heard her groan once more, then quietly whimper.

            She looked at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Erundil," she answered in barely a whisper, "I-I heard him. He calls for you, Legolas. He…He is frightened."

            Her husband appeared perplexed. "But, how is this so?" he asked. When Ziendriel did not answer, he added, "Was his call accompanied by a vision? Were you able to see him?" He turned expectant eyes to her.

            She shook her head. "No," she answered, slightly saddened when the hope vanished from his eyes, "His shout came from within my mind. There was nothing else." She hastily wiped away the tears that had streaked her cheeks.

            The rest of their company was now surrounding them, the same look of concern on every face. At first glance their company was of an odd assortment: four male Elves accompanied by two females, for it was well-known that the men did the hunting and the women rarely ventured out of the homelands. The reason for such a party was because of the stubbornness of the princess to accompany the prince and the others, as well as Adrianna's insistence that she fill in as Ziendriel's handmaiden since Tiri was still incapacitated. After Adrianna had revealed it was the Men of Yelren that were responsible for the attack, as well as the young prince's abduction, plans had been quickly made to travel to the land and retrieve Erundil.

            "Milady, are you alright?" Adrianna now asked from atop her steed. Her blue eyes flashed with concern as she maneuvered her horse closer.

            Ziendriel slowly nodded. "A bit shaken, but I am fine," she answered. She gently extracted her shoulder from Legolas' grasp and straightened up. She peeked at her husband who now stared silently at her, frowning. "Truly," she assured him, though not convincingly for her voice slightly trembled. When he still did not speak, she opened her mouth to protest, but stopped when her ears caught a small noise.

            With the exception of Adrianna –whose ears were obviously untrained- everyone turned their eyes to the direction of the forest edge and focused intently on the shadows that played among the leaves and bushes. A slight breeze swept through the woods, causing the trees and its shadows to dance.

            "Get behind me," Legolas quietly told Ziendriel, though his eyes remained fastened to the forest. One look at his face and grim expressions and Ziendriel did as she was told. She gently urged Vanesse behind her husband's horse, leading Adrianna to do the same.

            The men waited patiently, their eyes and ears trained on everything before and around them. They formed a wall of Elves and horses, protecting the women in their care. Another sound echoed within the trees, louder this time, causing Legolas to draw his bow from his back. In one fluid motion, he notched an arrow to the bowstring and slightly pulled it back.

            A shout sounded just to the right of them, followed by a loud thud. Startled by the intrusion upon the quiet of the forest, birds fled their nests, screeching their protests. "Show yourself!" Legolas commanded, training his bow upon the area in which the sound originated.

            A stout and short figure moved among the shadows of the bushes, crackling and crushing the undergrowth as it did so. A grunt, then a steady stream of mutterings could be heard as the figure made its way towards the group. When its form finally emerged into the sunlight, Legolas lowered his bow and grinned. "Luck is with you, my friend," he told the newcomer, chuckling, "My arrow would surely have found its way into your skin!" In one movement, he jumped down from his horse and all but ran to the figure.

            Gimli, son of Gloin and beloved Dwarf friend of the Prince of Mirkwood, snorted with laughter. "It would not be the first time, Master Elf!" he exclaimed before being swept up into a joyous embrace by his friend.

            Despite the joy of such a reunion between the friends, Gimli could feel the underlying tension among the small company of Elves. He could see it, too. When it became obvious that some time was needed for Gimli to catch his breath, the rest of the party had quickly gone about in setting up a makeshift camp. It was a simple action, but there was no unity to conform to: the men were almost absent-mindedly preparing the campsite, while the women sought to distance themselves from them by walking off to the farthest side of the camp. Many years may have passed and gone unnoticed by the beauty of his Elven friends, but Gimli could clearly see the troulble that clouded Legolas' face.

            It was with this observation that Gimli now thought it fortunate he had decided a visit to Mirkwood had been in order. In truth, he had greatly missed the Elf and the banter they both enjoyed, so much so that his Dwarf-brethren had all but pushed him from the caves, urging him to "take your forlorn sighs elsewhere!" He had just entered the boundaries of Mirkwood when the March Warden had informed him of the absences of both the prince and princess. It had taken less than a moment for Gimli to decide to follow the Elven company, despite the fact that he was nearly two days behind.

            "Care to tell me of your troubles, my friend?" the Dwarf asked, though not gruffly as his appearance might suggest. His beard, once the color of dark amber, was now streaked with grey, but braided as one with such a high position as he. His face now held more wrinkles, evidence of his long travels and hard work, as well as his maturity and wisdom. His tunics and armor told the telltale signs of travel, as well as the dirt on his boots. His trusty axe lay across his back, cradled within a special sling.

            Legolas turned surprised eyes to his friend. "Is it really that obvious, Master Dwarf?" he returned, slightly smiling. He had greatly missed Gimli and could not believe that they now sat side by side.

            Gimli guffawed. "Our time together was not all for naught," he answered, "It allowed me time to learn the moods of an Elf." He watched as Legolas sighed, then turn his brilliant blue eyes to his wife, who was now strolling towards the trees. "If it is possible, she looks sickly. Beautiful, but sickly," the Dwarf observed, noticing the way his friend's jaw suddenly clenched, "I always knew you were not husband material!"

            Legolas angrily whirled around, his eyes blazing and his mouth already opening to refute his claim. He abruptly stopped when he saw the dancing light of laughter in his wise friend's eyes. "Forgive me, my friend," he said, somberly, "For there is much that has burdened me for several days passed."

            Gimli smiled kindly at him. "Tell me only what you wish," he suggested, "For it is obvious that your shoulders are in sore need of relieving."

            As Legolas sat with his friend, recounting the hell his family had been put through (_Which,_ he thought wryly, _strangely enough, began and ended with Adrianna Roseleaf!) Ziendriel sat in the perches of a tree on the other side of their makeshift camp. More than once her eyes wandered over to where her husband and Dwarf-friend sat. She watched as the friends talked, noticing the immediate change in Legolas._

            _He appears more relaxed, she observed,__ somewhat guiltily, More…light. It is well that Gimli has found us. In mere seconds has the Dwarf unburdened him of cares several days accumulated…cares of which I am responsible._

            Over the course of the travels, Ziendriel knew that she had been pushing away all those that she loved. She could not remember the last civil conversation she had held with Legolas, one that did not end with one of them storming off. Since all of this had begun, it had become her habit to keep to herself and ignore all invitations extended by her family and friends to forgive them. The hurt from their secrecy still smarted within her heart and although she was a forgiving person by nature, forgiveness concerning them stealthily eluded her heart.

            Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Adrianna, for the sight of her head struggling to keep above the perch abruptly tore any solitude from her. Ziendriel nearly burst into laughter as she watched the maiden struggle to climb the large tree trunk. "Adrianna, may I ask what you are doing?" she asked, smiling.

            The lady sheepishly grinned in return. "Would you believe I am joining you on your lovely perch?" she answered, panting as she did so. She made to grab the nearest branch while her foot braced against the tree, but gasped in surprise when her foot slipped.

            With eyes wide open, Ziendriel lunged forward and caught her by the wrist. The combined weight of Adrianna and gravity made her grunt as she tried to keep her friend from falling several feet down.

            "May I be of some assistance?" an amused voice inquired.

            Both ladies looked to the source and immediately blushed when they saw Jhad looking very amused as he surveyed their predicament from a few feet away. He stepped forward and held out his arms. "Release her, Princess," he called up to Ziendriel, "And I will catch Lady Roseleaf."

            Adrianna turned frightened eyes to the princess, but Ziendriel immediately understood her fear: would Jhad, whom both ladies were unsure of his forgiveness (or lack thereof), truly catch her or allow her to drop? Adrianna knew her presence among them was unwanted and mistrusted; she could tell by their actions towards her since returning to Mirkwood. It was also a doubtful moment for Ziendriel, ut it was fleeting. Though she was still miffed about this trusted confidante and friend's involvement in the secrecy against her, she knew in her heart that Jhad would be true to his word. He had always been and she was sure that he always would be.

            "He will catch you," she told the suspended maiden, "He will hold true to his word." She smiled reassuringly.

            Adrianna looked unconvinced for a moment, but slowly nodded when she saw the clarity in her mistress' eyes. She trusted Ziendriel and if she, in turn, trusted the captain, then there was no reason she should not also. She closed her eyes and gasped at the sudden release of her wrist, feeling the gravity immediately envelope her body. It was a strange sensation to feel her body fall…

            Without so much as a grunt, Jhad caught the frightened maiden in his arms. He chucked at the way her body immediately curled up, her face instinctively turning towards his chest. Her eyes were still tightly closed and her body refused to relax.

            Light, silvery laughter drifted down from the tree. "You may open your eyes now, Adrianna!" Ziendriel called, smiling broadly.

            Adrianna slowly opened one eye and surveyed her surroundings. When she saw that she was indeed safe and in the arms of a very handsome Elven-lord, the other eye popped open and widened in harmony with its mate. "Um, thank you," she mumbled, wiggling uncomfortably in his arms. She blushed when she saw his amused eyes.

            Very gently, Jhad set her on her feet. "Think nothing of it, milady," he told her, bowing. He smiled again when she clumsily curtsied, then excused himself.

            Ziendriel hopped down from the tree, witnessing the whole exchange. She made her way over to the maiden, unnoticed, for Adrianna's eyes followed as Jhad returned to the heart of the campsite. Oh, she was trying hard not to stare, but the pull was too strong. "Handsome, is he not?" Ziendriel asked, once she stood beside her companion.

            Adrianna nearly jumped out of her skin. "I did not hear you, your Highness!" she exclaimed, flushing scarlet.

            Ziendriel giggled. "Obviously," she answered.

            When the tale was done, Legolas turned to his friend, anxious at his silence for that was how Gimli had remained during the tale telling. He now sat there, thoughtfully rubbing his chin, his eyes focused on some unseen object as he processed his thoughts. Finally, he slightly nodded before turning to his friend. "If you allow me, I offer you my axe as well as my companionship," he announced, "Friends we may be, Legolas, but I fear there are many life debts between us that are in need of repayment." His eyes twinkled once more as he added, "And it is high time that your son met the Dwarf that has –many times, mind you- saved his father from his fair shared of danger!"

            Legolas laughed. "He has already been told the true version of our adventures together, Gimli," he warned, smiling, "And I do not think he will be easily swayed by your words for Erundil is completely devoted to me."

            To this, Gimli merely snorted. "We shall see," was all he said, grinning as he did so.

            They soon broke camp after that and continued southeast, towards Gondor. Once there, they would continue south, towards Yelren. According to the map from his father's archives, Yelren was a small kingdom south of Minas Tirith. Legolas was not familiar with this land nor its people, which he surmised was probably the logic behind the demands of bringing Ziendriel (whose identity to the Men were still unknown) into their kingdom. He did not know what to expect from these Men and that did not sit well with him; not when the lives of both his son and wife were in jeopardy.

            Alhough he had still not warmed to the idea of horseback, it was Ziendriel whom Gimli requested to ride with, claiming to desire the company of beauty and grace on a road so long. With a wry and unbelieving arched brow, Ziendriel had agreed and hoisted the Dwarf upon her mare's back.

            They were well on their way before Gimli finally spoke. "If I may say so, milady," he said, his voice altered with each bounce and jostle from the ride, "You do not seem like yourself. May I ask what troubles your mind?" Another sudden bounce caused him to tightly grip the material of her dress.

            Ziendriel smiled, unnoticed by the Dwarf, for he sat behind her. "Now I am sure Legolas has learned his wily ways from you, Master Dwarf!" she teased, "for your attempted cunningness in trying to extract information does not work, as does not the same actions from my husband!" She laughed, even as he muttered some lame excuse. "I know he has told you of our problems, but do not fear. I am truly grateful that he has someone in which to air his frustrations." She urged Vanesse into a faster gallop before adding, "Now, let us talk of more pleasant things, Gimli; how is your wife?"

            Gimli snorted at her sudden change of subject then launched into a long description of how his lovely wife Naria now made it her life's goal to hinder his every move.

            Only when the sun began to set did their paces slow. Legolas led them to the coer of woods, where they would be safely covered as they camped. It was within a cluster of trees that they dismounted their horses and began the preparations for their camp.

            Ziendriel and Adrianna quickly went off to find some firewood, as Lorith began unloading his pack full of provisions. Gragoc was now busying himself with forming a fire pit, while Jhad began clearing the area where the women and Gimli might rest their bodies. Legolas, in the meantime, stood rooted to in his spot, his sharp eyes following the movements of his wife as she gathered branches. Gimli sat on a nearby rock, chuckling softly in amusement as he watched his friend.

            "Has time changed so much that you Dwarves now have servants to do your work for you?" Lorith called to Gimli, a mischievous smile upon his face.

            The Dwarf turned to him, a bushy eyebrow raised. "Eh?" he called back.

            "I only ask because you sit here now, as if there is nothing to do!" Lorith answered, "But it matters not, eh? Old age has always been an acceptable excuse from chores!" He chuckled then, the light in his eyes sparkling.

            Gimli stared at him for a moment, then burst into jovial laughter. Unlike his friendship with Legolas, this friendship with Lorith had almost begun the instant the two had met, which had been a great relief to the prince. The two were alike in many ways, which probably accounted for the camaraderie they felt.

            "Your wit has greatly improved, Elf!" Gimli now said, chuckling. He stepped closer to him and clapped him soundly on the back.

            Lorith grinned. "So I have been told," he returned, offering Gimli  small bundle wrapped in large leaves. "Forgive me, my friend," he added when the Dwarf chuckled at the sight of the familiar lembas, "We did not know we would be in the company of a Dwarf when we set out on this journey."

            Gimli merely shook his head and grinned. "Pay this old Dwarf no mind," he said, lifting up the Elvish waybread in a small salute to his friend before taking a bug and hearty bite. Lorith laughed.

            Meanwhile, the hunt for firewood was nearly complete when Adrianna suddenly said, "The prince has yet to forgive me." It was more of a statement than a question, but its affect was poignant nonetheless.

            "Why do you ask?" Ziendriel asked, clearly taken off guard. She straightened up as she had been in the middle of picking up a branch when the statement had been made.

            Adrianna discreetly nodded her head in Legolas' direction. "His eyes has not left you since I accompanied you out here, nor has that scowl disappeared from his face everytime I have glanced at him," she answered. She sighed heavily and dropped her eyes to the ground. "I don't suppose I should have expected anything else," she added, softly.

            Ziendriel felt her heart droop as she saw the maiden's misery clearly. She dropped her bundle of wood to the ground and rushed to her friend's side. "He has not forgiven you, that much is clear," she told her, clasping their hands together, "But he has promised me that he will try; please do not despair. Despite all that has conspired, I know Legolas will hold true to his word, no matter how long it takes!"

            Adrianna sadly smiled at the thought, then sighed. "Then one can only hope," she said, woefully. It was said with such defeat that Ziendriel smiled kindly.

            "There is always hope, _mellon,_" she told her, giving her hand a squeeze.

            _Gimli stared into the still waters of the pond, quietly dipping his hands within the cool liquid. He cupped his hands together, intent on capturing some water to drink, but froze mid-air when his peripheral vision caught a movement off to his left. Spilling the water as he turned, Gimli suddenly grunted in confusion as he saw the water there begin to bubble. He quickly rose to his feet, but found his fascination with this too great, forbidding him to move away as his instincts told him to._

_            The water continued to bubble, until the entire pond churned madly. It was as if a great fire had been lit under it, causing white froth to burst forward and low rumblings to emit as the ground slightly trembled. It brought Gimli down to his knees with a hearty yell._

_            He felt himself being suddenly pushed back as the water suddenly exploded, causing a large wall of water to come crashing down upon him. Sputtering as he tried to clear his vision, he gave a great yell as he suddenly found himself face-to-face with a great pair of flaming red eyes…_

Ziendriel screamed as she suddenly awoke from her vision, startling the others around the campfire. She wildly glanced around, her breathing fast and furious as she clutched the light blanket that had been placed over her.

            Adrianna was immediately at her side. "Are you alright, milady?" she asked, alarmed at the sight of the princess. She placed a light, tentative hand on her shoulder and frowned when she felt her trembling.

            A few moments passed before the princess could reply. "I…I am fine, Adrianna," Ziendriel shakily answered, but was clearly otherwise. She took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to smile reassuringly at the others who had by now joined them.

            "Was it another vision?" Adrianna now asked.

            Ziendriel reluctantly nodded. "I saw-" she abruptly stopped as her eyes fell upon those who now surrounded her. "Where is Gimli?" she demanded, craning her neck to see behind them. The seats around the fire were empty.

            "I believe master Gimli needed, uh, a private moment, your Highness," Jhad answered, clearly embarrassed at disclosing such information to the princess.

            Ziendriel, however, did not notice. Instead, she felt her blood run cold from the news. "We must find him! NOW!" she exclaimed, scrambling to her feet, "Which way did he venture?"

            Lorith looked confused. "I believe he went that way," he told his sister-in-law, pointing the way. When she began to move away, he grabbed her arm. "Ziendriel, what is the matter?" he asked.

            "My vision!" she exclaimed, shrilly, "I had a vision of Gimli! He was cornered by a great, black beast with flaming red eyes!"

            Legolas felt his heart drop. Since knowledge of Ziendriel's visions had been brought to light, it had been proved that all had come to pass: the courier being thrown from his horse, Tiri being struck down, Elyse attacking Adrianna; all had happened as she had seen. And now, his dear friend was next.

            "Fan out!" Legolas ordered, his fear rising. The others quickly sprung into action, each going off in a different direction. He felt a sudden tug at his elbow and turned to see Ziendriel standing beside him.

            "Take me with you?" she requested quietly, her eyes averted.

            Although the circumstances were odd, Legolas felt his heart swell. This was the first touch Ziendriel had willingly allowed between them since their journey and he would not lie and say he had not missed it. He had sorely missed the feel of her skin beneath his fingers, the scent of wildflowers that permeated from her hair whenever he held her near. All in all, he missed his wife.

            "Always," he answered, just as quietly. He slightly smiled when her head snapped up, surprised at the endearing tone held in such an answer. He gently took hold of her hand and led her away.

            Adrianna, in the meantime, had wandered off on her own, tromping through the dark forest. "Master Gimli!" she called, but not as loudly as the others for fear of her unknown surroundings, "Master Gimli, where are you?" She continued to weave her way through the trees, the fear rising slowly from the pit of her stomach.. She was afraid of getting lost, but more so of what may have happened to the Dwarf. The princess had been frantic, which did not bear good news.

            Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a high, shrill whistle that ripped through the night's silence. She was no hunter, but she knew an urgent call when she heard one. She lifted the hem of her dress and took off running towards the direction of the call.

            The others were already there when she finally arrived, but all were frozen in place. Curiously, she followed their line of vision and found the area had opened up into a small clearing of trees which surrounded a fairly-sized pool of water. Her eyes widened when she saw Gimli a few feet in front of her, his back pressed desperately into the trunk of a tree as a monstrous beast breathed its fire breath menacingly over him.


	14. Chapter 13: Explanations

**A/N: I am REALLY displeased with this chapter and so I will apologize in advance for everything that you might find wrong with it! It really wasn't flowing for me; so if you have any ideas on improvement, please send them to me! I'll be more than happy to fix this chapter and repost it! Thanks!**

****

**Chapter 13**

            Legolas stared at the great beast before him, his eyes peering closer into the night. His eyes widened with surprise when he recognized the beast as a great dragon, nearly the same height as the tall oak tree it now had Gimli cornered into. _I thought these creatures had disappeared from our world! _Legolas thought, watching as it dipped its head closer to the Dwarf, the flames shooting forth from its nostrils, _The__ last I had heard of them was during Master Bilbo's adventures with the Dwarves!_

            His thoughts were suddenly broken by Ziendriel's cry of fear as the dragon now nudged Gimli with its great snout. For his part, Gimli was doing his best to appear as brave as his demeanor dictated, but Legolas could clearly see him trembling. With grace and speed, Legolas pulled an arrow from his quiver and notched it tightly to his bow.

            The sound of Ziendriel's cry had reached the dragon's ears, causing its head to whip towards her. She saw its glowing eyes focus clearly on her and felt the fear rise in her chest. It was clearly looking at her now and a deep rumble could be heard from within its throat. Instinctively, she stepped closer to her husband, hiding behind him.

            The dragon raised its head, its eyes never leaving Ziendriel. It looked down upon her and delicately sniffed the air. Its head snapped back and a sound of confusion escaped its mouth. Then, just as quickly, it reared back, pinning Gimli against the tree with one gigantic clawed foot. "You will tell me who you are and why you have disturbed the peace of my home!" it roared, "And I warn you to speak the truth for your friend will pay the consequences!" It pressed its foot harder, causing Gimli to grunt.

            "And why should we trust that you would not hurt him despite our agreement?" Legolas demanded, keeping his arrow trained upon the beast.

            The dragon blew out a small flame of fire from its nostrils. "Because it is I who has control of the present situation," it answered, tightening its hold on the Dwarf. Gimli gave a small yelp of pain.

            Ziendriel rushed forward. "Please!" she exclaimed, "Do not hurt him! We will do as you ask!" She turned towards Legolas, giving him a pointed look. "We will _all do as you ask," she added, "But please do not hurt our friend!" She saw Legolas reluctantly lower his bow._

            "I ask again for your identities," the dragon demanded, "And I warn you to speak the truth for there is something amiss concerning your group."

            Ziendriel nodded, then gave the great creature a customary curtsey. "I am called Ziendriel," she introduced, pleasantly, though she feared for Gimli, "This is my husband Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood. We travel with our friends, one of which is the Dwarf named Gimli, whom you now hold." She turned to the rest of their company and introduced each one in turn. "My handmaiden Adrianna; Jhad, a captain in my husband's father's army; and members of the king of Mirkwood's cabinet, Lord Lorith and Lord Gragoc." They each bowed in respect to the dragon.

            The beast was quiet for a long moment, then slightly nodded its great head. "It is well," he announced, releasing its grip on Gimli. The Dwarf took a deep breath, then scrambled to his feet "I do not sense any malice or threat behind your words," the dragon added, "I am Aegnor, Last of the Dragons. This pool has been my home for the last three centuries, a safe haven from the ever-changing world." He paused for a moment, his face, if possible, taking a reflective expression. "Tell me, Ziendriel, Princess of Mirkwood," he asked, "Why do I sense something familiar emanating from you?"

            This confused the maid. "I am afraid I do not understand," she replied, looking thoughtfully at him.

            "For many millennia, dragons have been able to detect the auras of other creatures," Aegnor explained, "Those who possess magical powers are more pronounced to our senses. It confuses me as to why I would detect the aura of another around you."

            Ziendriel frowned. "I do not know what to tell you, Aegnor," she answered, truthfully.

            The dragon also frowned. "I was not aware that she had any family," he murmured so softly that she almost did not hear him. "Tell me," he continued, a bit louder. She stared at him, expectantly. "Have you any connection to Aìnu the Elven Sorceress?"

            At this, Ziendriel gasped in surprise. "How is it that you know of this lady?" she asked, clearly startled by the unexpected inquiry.

            "The Lady once saved me from death," Aegnor answered, "I was but a babe at the time and very ill. Aìnu was kind enough to heal me of my ailment." He peered at the maid and added, "But, that still does not answer my question of why her aura of power surrounds you."

            Ziendriel glanced at Legolas, her loss of words evident. She did not know where to start her story neither did she know the manner in which to explain her confusing start. Legolas was not much help for he looked just as flabbergasted as she.

            It was Jhad who finally stepped forward, for out of any in their company, he knew more than Ziendriel cared to accept. "Many years ago, the sorceress we now speak of was killed at the hands of Men," he said, taking over when Ziendriel hesitated; she looked gratefully towards him. "For many days she was hunted as one might a deer," he continued, "There was no rest or peace in her flight, which eventually led to her capture. With help, she escaped and managed to reach the woods of our home, Greenwood the Great, now known as Mirkwood. Before once again being overpowered by the Men." He paused for a moment, out of respect for the sorceress, as well as his father, her Guardian at the time. It was an adequate amount considering the circumstances. "Before she was killed, however, she transformed her power and created an Elven babe and gifted that child to a barren couple. The Elven child is the maid to whom you now speak."

            Aegnor appeared dazed. "I know Aìnu possessed great power, though she denied it many times," he murmured, "Now I see the extent of her powers manifested before my eyes!" He stared openly at her, the awe unmasked on his face.

            Ziendriel shifted uncomfortably on her feet, unsure if Aegnor's comment was to be taken as a compliment. She could feel the eyes of everyone present burn through her, which only further caused her to blush.

            Gimli, who had by now moved to the safety of the Elves, noticed her discomfort and cleared his throat loudly. "I profusely apologize, Aegnor, Last of the Dragons," he announced, humbly, "Had I known the true purpose of this pond, I would have steered clear of it!" He bowed, no longer afraid of the creature that had once held him captive.

            Aegnor chuckled. "You are a curious creature, Master Dwarf," he said, "But it is well, just the same; for I have not had the pleasure of such companions for many years!"

            "Will you join us at our fire?" Ziendriel invited, "I fear I have many questions concerning your friend, The Lady."

            The great dragon nodded. "As do I," he answered.

            Erundil could hardly mask his surprise when the stronghold of Yelren came into view. It was greatly dilapidated, with most of its outer walls crumbling and obviously weak, and its gate splintered and rotting on rusting hinges. It greatly surprised him that the building managed to still standing after surveying its rundown state.

            Kel led the company through the rotting wood of the gates, entering the main courtyard. He, as did everyone, dismounted and proceeded to tie his steed to the post as many of the stable hands had long ago passed on. Glancing around, he motioned for his men to follow him into the main hall.

            Erundil was quickly grabbed and set down upon his feet. His first thought was to run, but was reminded of his bonds when Tiruc gently prodded him forward, causing him to almost fall forward. The same hands that had lifted him off of the horse caught him before he could hit the ground, but Erundil ignored the fact; instead, he glared at Tiruc and muttered a curse under his breath.

            Despite the dismally lit torches, the hall was dark and dusty as they entered, but Erundil took no notice. Instead, his eyes focused on Kel, walking purposeful through the decrepit halls of his home. The Elfling did not like this Man, not because of his abduction, but because the Man's mind was filled with a darkness that made Erundil shiver every time his mind touched the mortal's.

            They finally entered a great hall, smaller than his grandfather's Great Hall, and stopped right before a crumbling dais. Upon it, seated in a worn throne made of wood, sat a dark-haired Man, draped in shabby but intricately designed robes. Erundil decided that this was the king of the land, but curiously enough, did not feel the same darkness from him.

            Narìn, King of Yelren, had watched the whole procession enter his hall, his face masked of the churning emotions he felt, but his curiosity heightened. Kel and these men had disappeared nearly a week ago with hardly a word of explanation. It had greatly puzzled him, for he could not think of a single reason for the large company to journey beyond the safety of their borders.

            Until he saw Tiruc enter with the Elf.

            "Kel, what have you done?" the king bellowed, once all of the company had halted before him. He peered around his advisor, having no doubt that it was he who had organized such an expedition, and saw the Elfling, bound and gagged. "Release the Elf!"

            "Milord," Kel greeted, bowing slightly. He said this with the air of a child intent on ignoring the warnings from a parent. He turned and bowed to the rest of the king's court, smiling pleasantly at them all. "Now that we have disposed of the pleasantries," he added, as if he had just told them all an amusing anecdote, "I am afraid that I must deny your request. The Elfling will remain in his bonds. As we have found, Elves, especially a young one such as this, are very cunning and….swift." He grimaced at the memory of Erundil nearly escaping after Tiruc had loosened his bonds slightly. "Besides," he added, pleasantly, "he is pertinent to our plans." He smiled broadly. "Milord, my I present Erundil, son of Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, great Elven kingdom."

            Narìn felt his eyes widen in astonishment. "An Elven prince?" he whispered. When Kel nodded, he felt his anger swell. He had heard of the legendary skills of the Elven warriors from the time of One Ring; it was not a force to take lightly. "You fool!" he bellowed, "Do you not realize what you have done? You have surely brought war upon us!"

            A gasp rippled through the small crowd, but the smile on Kel's face did not falter. "We have done nothing, save take measures to ensure the future of our people," he answered, boldly, "If truth be told, the Elves brought war upon themselves when they refused to grant us the great Elven sorceress!"

            Narìn growled. "You have risked us all over some wisp of legend?" he demanded, stepping forward.

            "It is not legend!" Kel dared to yell, his patience wearing thin from the disbelief of his king, "You know it as well as I!"

            Narìn lunged forward, but was immediately stopped by the men that flanked Kel. The rest of the king's court began to rush forward, but were blocked by the remainder of Kel's company. It took five men to finally subdue the monarch, as he was of a bigger stature than they. "Unhand me!" he roared, outraged. When they did not, he looked at the men that restrained him, alarmed at the coldness he saw in their eyes. With just one glance, he could see their loyalties had shifted elsewhere. His eyes burned towards Kel. "You will pay dearly for this, Kel!"

            Kel smirked. "I think not, your Highness," he answered, "I do not wish for things to end up the way they are going. That is why I shall ask for you to reconsider the situation."

            Narin sneered. "Never!" he yelled, his lip curled as he bared his teeth.

            The traitorous counselor shook his head. "Then, I am afraid it is to the dungeons with you, milord," he said, sadly. He motioned for the men that held the king to take him away, giving him a mock bow as he was dragged out. Kel then turned to the court. "No matter what you feel at the sudden turn of events," he began, "I now plead with you to listen! The presence of this child, this Elf, is to ensure the future of our people! With his assistance, no longer will Yelren be forgotten in the pages of history! With him and the power of the Elves that will no doubt be within our grasp, Yelren will once again be known throughout the land!" This drew a cheer from his men, while the rest curiously looked on.

            Erundil tentatively glanced around, noting the differences between the Men now gathered. Although his tutors had versed him in the language of Westron, the exchange between the Men had been fast and furious, and therefore, hard to follow.

            The Men not part of Kel's movement silently glanced at one another, their conversations held within the glimpses of one another's eyes. A few glanced at the Elf prince, then back to their brethren. Finally, a short, grey-haired man stepped forward. With all the straightness his middle-aged back could muster, he stood tall and proud, his head held high. "Our loyalty is to our king," he announced, his dark eyes blazing, "We trust in his wisdom and in his love for his people. We will never join you in your wild ramblings of Elven magic!" The others that stood behind him, mostly middle-aged as he, nodded in agreement.

            At this display of bold defiance, the serenity of Kel's face finally cracked. "We shall see, Mirac!" he shot back. He glared at him for a moment and Mirac held his gaze, then once again motioned his men to take away the offender. Those who had banded together with Mirac were also taken away, whisked away to the dark and damp dungeons below the stronghold of Yelren, watched by the satisfied eyes of their dissenting brothers.

            "And what shall we do with the Elfling?" Tiruc asked, gently prodding Erundil.

            The young prince glared at Tiruc before settling his eyes upon the traitorous counselor. He knew that Kel was no doubt, still angry after his near-escape and that the consequences of such a bold move would not go unrewarded. In any case, Erundil continued to glare at him, defiantly, as only a member of royalty could.

            He saw with grim satisfaction, the tightening of Kel's jaw, the narrow eyes as he, too, remembered the young monarch's actions. It had obviously not been anticipated; whether from true ignorance of Elven lore or bad planning, Erundil did not know. But now, that element could no longer be used in escape.

            "Put him in the dungeon with the others," Kel finally answered, an eerie glint in his eye. He grinned at Erundil, which made him involuntarily shudder. The Man's eyes had suddenly glossed over and the grin that he now gave was that of a mind not quite there. He had seen these signs manifest themselves over the course of their travels and had become more and more pronounced as they had approached Yelren. His thoughts turned suddenly to Lady Adrianna Roseleaf, the Elf that had once been crazed in her mind and had attacked his mother. Obviously, he had never seen her before, but wondered if this what his mother had seen when dealing with her diseased mind?

            With one last, hateful glance at Kel, Erundil felt himself being led out of the room and back into the dark and dusty halls.

            Tiruc watched him as he went, then turned back to his leader. "If one such as he could give us such trouble," he told Kel, "Imagine what his parents will lash upon us!" His mind flashed back to the initial attack upon the Elves as his hand went to the back of his head. The bump was now gone, but the memory was not.

            Kel smiled broadly at him. "Ah, but that is why we must plan, Tiruc!" he responded, "We cannot let them get the best of us as the young one almost did! While the rest of the men prepare for the meal, we shall prepare for victory!" He motioned him out of the halls and directly into the king's private chamber.

            For the next several hours, the two peered over maps of their land, playing out strategies and improving on those that showed promise. The only interruption had been the arrival of the meal (a hard roll and cheese that wasn't fresh but not quite moldy), but that had been taken care of quickly before they were once again back at their plans.

            Finally, when they did not think anymore thought could be done, a plan presented itself. It greatly pleased the two, inasmuch as they began to think and speak bold things.

            "When Yelren has been healed," Kel announced, "so shall our people be! Our land shall once again bear our flag proudly and none shall have the power to down-trodden us anymore!"

            Tiruc smiled in agreement. "Our warriors shall once again be the treasure of Gondor!" he said, his smile growing broader.

            "Our kingdom will once again be numbered among those in Gondor!"

            "In the east!"

            "In all of Middle-Earth!"

            They stopped for a moment, the thought coming to both at the same instant. "With this power of the Elven sorceress," Kel slowly began, "we could become greater than even all of Gondor. The power would be unmatched and therefore would we be also." He began to pace the room, his mind working fast. "If we take this opportunity," he added, "lands would be ours for the taking; nothing would be denied us!" His eyes lit up.

            Tiruc appeared startled. "N-Nothing, milord?" he repeated.

            Kel nodded, looking at him curiously. "I see you already have something in mind," he observed.

            Swallowing hard, Tiruc nodded. "I desire the Elfling's mother," he answered.

            Kel clapped him on the shoulder. "Then, I promise you, my friend," he told him, "Once the power of the sorceress is ours, she will be yours. And there is nothing in heaven or earth to keep her from you."


	15. Chapter 14: Dragon, Birds, Elves and a D...

**A/N: Okay, okay! I _know_ this is taking forever! Sorry! But, really! What can you do if your creativity decides to leave you for awhile? *grins sheepishly* Anyhoo, here's the next chapter. I worked really hard on this one since the previous one was crap; I hope it's up to par!**

**Chapter 14**

            The sun began its ascent over the lands of Arda, its brilliant rays creeping across the earth. Signs of night melted away, allowing the orange hue of morning's first light to splay across the sky. Covered in the kisses of morning dew, the grass and plant life glistened brightly, greeting the new day.

            Ziendriel looked all around her, the delight evident upon her face as the wind rushed across her face and through her hair. She glanced down, her eyes sparkling at the sight below and clutched her hands tighter around Aegnor's neck. "It's wonderful, Aegnor!" she told the dragon, pure exhilaration running through her body as he took her higher into the sky with a flap of his mighty wings.

            Aegnor chuckled. "I knew you would appreciate this, Princess," he called back. He rose even higher then took a sudden plunge, causing Ziendriel to gleefully shriek. When he rose back, level with the giant birds that held the rest of the company, the princess was laughing.

            It was thru the wisdom of Aegnor that now placed them upon their winged steeds; his desire to help them rescue Erundil had manifested itself once Ziendriel had explained their situation the night before. He had left their campsite when the last of the embers from their fire had begun to die out, promising to return at first light. Miffed by his sudden departure, Ziendriel had forced herself to rest, seeing her only option was to wait.

            She did not know how long she had slept, for it seemed in the next instant she was awakened to large gusts of wind and the sound of giant flapping wings. Aegnor had kept his promise, for behind him and the giant beasts of flight, the tips of the sun were beginning its show across the sky. They would ride atop the birds, aiding in their journey, while their horses would be allowed to roam the land; eventually reuniting them at Minas Tirith. This had been almost immediately agreed upon for it would cut their journey through Gondor considerably.

            "That was delightful!" Ziendriel gasped, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed. She glanced over to the nearest bird and saw her husband looking disapprovingly at her from his seat upon the giant creature. Ziendriel just smiled at him, determined not to let anyone ruin the enjoyment she now had, for it had been a long time since she had felt so carefree. "Faster, Aegnor!" she called, "Faster!"

            Her dragon friend chuckled once more and flapped his wings majestically, streamlining his body into the jet stream of air. They shot ahead of their companions causing them all to stare after her, Legolas most of all. His eyes took in the relaxed stature of his wife, sitting so comfortably atop the great beast they now called friend, the wind whipping through her long, black hair. It was the most happy he had seen her since this nightmare had began and it hurt him to know that he was not the source of her smiles and laughter.

            _I loathe to admit this, he thought, frowning as he did so, __But Ariel is right. I do not know Ziendriel as I once did…or did I really ever know my wife? Mayhap the fault is mine that we have not spoken so well to one another. If I had been truthful from the beginning, if I had been more understanding once the truth had come out, would I now have my wife within my arms?_

            His thoughts were broken by another shriek, but it was not Ziendriel who did so. Legolas glanced over his shoulder, his eyes falling upon Adrianna. He nearly chuckled aloud when he saw her clutching the neck of the giant bird she rode, her arms completely circled round as her face pressed deep within the creature's soft feathers. He saw the reason for Adrianna's fear streak by in a black blur and once again frowned. Ziendriel was now encouraging Aegnor to boast his exceptional flying by performing several moves, one which had him looping Adrianna and her bird.

            Ziendriel was oblivious to the thoughts of her husband and was instead concentrated on the moment. She smiled as Aegnor took her once again under and over her handmaiden, her palms sweating as she grasped his neck. Her heart skipped a beat as he performed a barrel roll once they had cleared the giant bird, then once again leveled himself. She opened her mouth to voice her delight, but stopped when she felt a sudden tug at her neck. She looked down, slightly frowning when she saw the necklace around her neck blowing in the wind. It had broken free from the folds of her cloak and now reflected the rising sun. Almost immediately, the sight of it brought back the memories of the previous night…

**FLASHBACK**

_            Ziendriel stared at the necklace Aegnor had placed in her hands, her eyes wide with surprise. The longer she gazed at it, the more her eyes memorized the intricate details of the smoothly cut lines that shaped the slender hands immortalized in silver, gently embracing the crystal orb within its long and graceful fingers. She continued to stare at the piece of beautiful jewelry cradled in her palm, the fear clutching her heart as she saw the orb begin to glow. She was rendered speechless as the sphere's light brightened, filling the entire cavity of the jewel. "Wh-Where?" was all she was able to croak._

_            Aegnor chuckled. "Fate," he simply answered, "It was fate that the necklace of Aìnu returned to me that I, in turn, may return it to you, its rightful owner."_

_            She stared at the object in question, marveling at the simplicity of the design. To the uninformed eye the necklace seemed to be simply that: a necklace. But, to Ziendriel it meant so much more, represented more than she could imagine. It brought to life that part of her past that she had been attempting to deny, trying to dismiss. _

_It brought her face to face with her destiny._

_Ziendriel took a deep breath and shakily blew it out. She closed her fingers around the charm, wondering at the familiarity of it. Many times in her dreams had she seen this necklace, memorized its features, all of its curves and lines. And now, she held it, truly seeing it._

_And it frightened her more than she could say._

**FLASHBACK**

            "Princess?" Aegnor called, breaking her from her thoughts, "Princess, are you alright?" He had become concerned when her laughter abruptly stopped. When she did not answer, he concentrated on the image of her, then gently probed her mind. He felt her mind immediately embrace his, then reeled from the enormous amount of fear that radiated from her, surprised at the raw emotion. His mind touched hers and he immediately felt a white hot flash of pain as image upon image thundered towards him…

            _Fire engulfed the plains of Middle-Earth, destroying everything within in its grasp. Every creature upon the land stood among the flames, some in agony, others in triumph. Screams of mercy mingled with those of battle, creating a death melody with the sounds of dropping bodies. Among the chaos and carnage, a single figure rose above all, standing triumphant atop a great pile of bodies. And above this dark figure, soaring high in the blood-red sky, bathing this terrible leader of Men and Destruction with her glorious presentation of power, was Ziendriel…_

            A mighty roar burst from his throat, startling the princess and breaking their connection. "Aegnor!" she shouted, concerned when his wings faltered. She clutched his neck tightly as he dipped and bobbed upon the wind, causing her concern to heighten. From the corner of her eye she could see the others turn in surprise, worried glances divided between her and the dragon.

            With a small shake of his head, the dragon composed himself. "I apologize, Princess," he told her, shakily, "It was foolish of me to touch minds with you without consent; I deeply apologize." He nodded reassuringly at the others, who appeared only just a little convinced that all was well.

            Ziendriel brushed it aside. "I have never touched minds with another…not even with my husband," she explained, almost sheepishly.

            "From what I understand, there are not many of your kind who can," Aegnor explained, "Not without hurting themselves or those they attempt to touch. It is a skill that takes discipline and patience to master, not to mention time."

            Ziendriel fell silent for a moment, then ventured to ask, "And…what did you see?" He felt her nervous energy and smiled at it.

            "I will not lie and say I did not see the images of the nightmares that plague you," he answered grimly, "For it is my belief that they can be nothing but nightmares. You have inadvertently showed me your soul; though my heart rejoices in being able to unburden your fears, I am saddened that this has not been shared with your prince." He paused, then delicately added, "Why have you not shown Legolas these things? Or at the very least told him?"

            Again, Ziendriel became silent. "I am afraid to," she whispered, but her words were caught by the dragon's sharp ears.

            Aegnor nodded, immediately understanding. "You would believe that he would no longer love you," he said, simply.

            "Yes," Ziendriel answered. "Tell me, Aegnor," she added, "You have seen the images that plague my mind; would you not refuse to be with someone who has obviously been cursed with such prophecies? Would you be able to love someone whose destiny was to bring about the destruction of the world?"

            It was the dragon's turn for silence. "I cannot speak for your prince, milady," he answered, "But, I will tell you this. When Aìnu walked the woods of this land, she was my dearest friend. I admit to not knowing the full potential or capacity of her powers, although I had always surmised about her role in the shaping of this world. I tell you this now, Princess: Aìnu knew of her abilities, but not once did she allow it to control her thoughts or actions. She accepted who she was and went forward with that knowledge."

            "What are you saying, Aegnor?" Ziendriel asked.

            "I am saying, Princess," he answered, "That it is you who controls your power, not the other way around. Despite what you think, you _are who you have believed yourself to be after all these years; you may have been created from great power, but that power is now an extension of you. Think upon that and you will find the answers you seek."_

            The rest of their journey was made in silence: Ziendriel was deep in thought and Aegnor did not dare disturb her. He pulled up ahead of the others, concentrating on shaking the lingering affects of his mind-meld with her and getting them all safely to their destination.

            Legolas noticed his wife's silence and was troubled by it. Her disposition had rapidly diminished from the gaiety and laughter of earlier to the seriousness of a historian in his father's archives. Something had occurred, that much was clear after witnessing the dragon falter, but he did not know what. Ziendriel refused to look at him and he did not think the dragon would confess either. It was frustrating that she would not confide in him, but knew it would do no good in pushing her. His only option was to make himself available should she choose to finally turn to him.

            He turned his attention back to the horizon. The sun was beginning to set and it made for a lovely show of colors across the sky. He squinted as his eyes searched the grassland below, searching for a sight that had long been committed to memory. He turned to Gimli, who sat behind him, noticing that his eyes were doing the same. The two shared a grin.

            The white tower of Minas Tirith rose up from the ground as they approached the great city, reflecting the setting sun on its smooth walls. Two of the Nine Walkers took in the glorious sight, their hearts rejoicing in its beauty and representation. It had been far too long since their eyes had beheld this city, far too long since their feet had touched its soil.

            Feredir, son of Dùnredir, stood at his post at the gate of Minas Tirith. As his father before him, his eyes watched the skies and land before him, ever watchful of the area surrounding his home. To one not as dedicated as he, the post might be considered to be dull and boring; who would willingly stand at attention every second, every minute, every hour of the day at the main gate that led to the great city of Gondor, after all?

            The answer was Feredir. Since the opportunity to join the ranks of the King's army at the age of sixteen, Feredir had done everything within his abilities to quickly learn the ways of a solider. He had been eager and willing to show his leaders just what he was made of, and for that he had been rewarded accordingly.

            It had been a long road to get where he was now, but it had been worth it; his father's face had positively beamed when the title of Gate Keeper had been passed down to him, causing Feredir to swell with pride as his father bestowed the Keys of the Gate within his hands. His mother had been silently weeping and his best friend Herron had been green with envy; it had been a great day.

            Now, as he stood at his post, high above the closed gate of the city, Feredir noticed something. The sun was beginning to set, minimizing visibility in the darkening sky. What started off as several specks in the sky were now several identifiable bodies of creatures that Feredir had never before set eyes upon.

            Six winged beasts were rapidly heading towards him, great birds whose wingspan out measured the entire length of the city. All flew majestically in the sky, their dark feathers allowing them to almost blend with the creeping darkness. They were all-

            "Wait a moment," Feredir muttered, his eyes straining for a better look. All around him, his men were silent as they, too, watched the approaching fleet. There was something unusual about one of the birds; unlike its companions, its feathers were not of the same earth brown tone, nor was its head shaped as the others. Its body was of a sleeker stock and its wings were not fashioned the same. In fact, this creature was as black as the approaching night and, as it soared closer, not a bird at all. It appeared to be-

            With growing eyes of fear, Feredir immediately sprung into action. "Dragon!" he bellowed, turning to his men, "Dragon! To your posts! Take cover!"

            As one, the guards of Minas Tirith moved, running along the gate walls, arming themselves against this new threat, as a warning was belted from the horns among the walls. Below Feredir, the closed gate was secured, an unnecessary act considering the dragon had no need to go crashing through the heavy wood entrance when its wings would carry it over the walls. Nevertheless the gate was locked and secured, allowing its keepers to anxiously peer from behind it.

            Feredir stood ready, an arrow already notched in his bow, his sword at his hip. His heart was pounding furiously in his chest, its rhythm echoed deep within his ears. On either side of him, his men were also prepared and no doubt nervous. He was sure even the oldest among them had only heard of this creature through stories and myths, never expecting to see one in the flesh; according to the scholars of the land, dragons had long ago disappeared….had they not?

            The beating of the dragon's wings, as well as those of the giant birds, grew louder as they flew closer. They were almost upon the gate when all six creatures moved in unison to gently touch down upon the ground, bringing their heads almost level with Feredir and his men atop the gate's wall.

            An even more curious sight than a dragon flying with five giant birds presented itself once they had landed. Upon closer inspection, Feredir was startled to see the beasts carried passengers, folk who were unusually fair and strangely enchanting. He watched as the birds and dragon gently bowed before them, allowing those that rode upon them to dismount. One rider, male by what he could see, quickly dismounted, helped his companion down, then strode over to the dragon. With no signs of fear or unrest, the male gently helped the dragon's rider, a female in a long dress of shimmering material, down to the ground. The two paused for a moment, staring at one another, making Feredir suddenly feel as if he was intruding upon some intimate moment. He shifted his eyes away, only to return them when all riders had descended to the ground and had assembled before the gate.

            They were curious group of seven: two females accompanied by four males, and a Dwarf, traveling on winged creatures that had been rumored to have long ago disappeared. With the exception of the Dwarf, all were tall, even the females, and very fair-skinned. There was only one dark-haired among the blonde strands that blew in the evening breeze and that belonged to the rider of the dragon, the female.

            "Who are you and what business do you have here?" Feredir shouted. He drew his bow and was now joined by several other soldiers, all of whom had followed suit.

            One of the males stepped forward and bowed his head. "We are but a small band of Elves, traveling through your lands," he announced, his voice cultured and toned, "Our journey has brought us here in the most trying circumstances. My business is with your leader, the great King Elessar. I request an audience with his lordship at his earliest convenience."

            A wave of murmurs rippled through the ranks at the revelation. Feredir now looked upon the group before him, finally noticing the pointed ears of the strangers, with a mix of awe and curiosity. He had forgotten the beauty of the Elves and was grateful for the reminder now. Banners depicting the battle against Sauron and the One Ring decorated the halls of the king's hall included the famed Elven warriors, but their grace and beauty drawn was nothing compared to the sight before him now. The Gate Keeper peered closely at the Dwarf, remembering his presence among them, noting the familiarity in his face. Where had he seen him before? He had the strange suspicion that…

"You, sir!" the Feredir called to the Dwarf, "Tell me: what reason does a Dwarf have to ride with six Elven companions and great beasts such as a dragon and large birds?"

The Dwarf immediately stepped forward. "I, sir," he began almost haughtily, "will give you my name if you would be so kind to return the courtesy!" His boldness made his companions smile, as if they shared some sort of personal jest.

Feredir was confused by such a request. Did the Dwarf not know the seriousness of the current situation? He and his companions had appeared out of nowhere and atop of great beasts now not found in the lands! For all he knew, they were part of a new and evil uprising!

"I am Feredir, son of Dùnredir," he answered, though his bow stayed trained on them, "And, who might you be?"

The Dwarf nodded. "I am Gimli, son of Gloin," he answered, "And I find the need to travel with these Elves because my devotion to them dictates it." His companions smiled at him.

The male Elf that had spoken before stepped forward once more. "I am Legolas of Mirkwood," he introduced, bowing slightly, "I fought beside your king during the War. I come now to speak with him for his knowledge and wisdom would be greatly appreciated." He gestured to his companions behind him; the men bowed while the ladies curtsied. The birds and the dragon, who had been silently standing guard behind them, also bowed, amazing the men.

Feredir gave an indistinct yelp of surprise. So it was the Dwarf of the Nine Walkers that he had heard so much about and seen upon the banners in the hall! Which meant the Elf, this Legolas was the same-

The Gate Keeper immediately fell to one knee. "Forgive me, milords!" he apologized, "I had not the pleasure of looking upon you all those years ago and for it I did not recognize your faces." The men all around him did the same, their bows and arrows dropped from their hands.

The command was given to open the gates as Feredir himself went to greet the company. Upon reaching them, he once again fell to his knees. Legolas chuckled. "It is well," he told him, "And dispense with such formality. I fear we pale in comparison to your king."

Feredir quickly stood, then motioned several of his fellow guards forward. They did so quickly. "They will accompany you within the walls," he offered. He bowed once again.

Legolas thanked him and motioned for the others to follow. Ziendriel, however, hung back a moment and ran over to Aegnor. "Thank you for your help, Aegnor," she told him, hugging him around the neck.

He gently nudged her face. "It was my pleasure, Princess," he told her. "And please," he added, his dark eyes imploring, "remember what I have told you."

She smiled. "I will," she promised, hugging him once more.

Legolas paused to watch the exchange, noting their hushed voices. He knew he could hear their words if he desired, but decided to grant them their privacy. He turned away, waiting for her at the gate's entrance. A moment later, he felt her by his side.

As a group, the moved from one inner wall to another until they finally reached the most inner sanctuary of the citadel. Feredir's men led them to the base of the White Tower, leaving them in awe of the building created by Man. They were allowed a moment to look upon it before being quickly ushered into the king's audience hall a moment later.

Torches lit around the room gave it a bright countenance, while the room was simply, yet elegantly decorated. A single throne sat directly in line with the chamber doors, propped upon a dais.

A familiar figure sat upon the throne, his frame rested comfortably against the high back. His back straightened, however, when the company entered the room. Elessar, King of Gondor and of the United Lands, better known as Aragorn to this group, leapt up from the throne and rushed forward to greet them.

All knelt before him, which startled him. He collected himself and chuckled. "I thought friends were above such formalities!" he told Legolas, grabbing him by the shoulder and hauling him up.

"If I shared such a thought, I would never hear the end of it from you!" the Elf shot back.

Aragorn laughed again, the simple act lighting up the lines that wizened his face. He had, of course, aged since the last time Legolas had seen him, but it well-suited his dear friend: Aragorn's hair, once dark as night, had lightened and was now streaked with silver. His weather-beaten face from his days as a Ranger was still bronzed, but the lines of age and wisdom now lined the handsome face. And the royal robes that he now wore did nothing to hide the fact that he was still in better shape than most Men, despite his age.

Legolas joyfully embraced his friend, his heart swelling with happiness as he did so. He had greatly missed this friend, and like his reunion with Gimli, could not believe they were now face-to-face. "You look well, _mellon_," he told the king.

"Coming from an Elf," Aragorn chuckled, "I will take that as a highly paid compliment." He quickly moved to Gimli and embraced him as well. "You!" he exclaimed to the Dwarf, the joy evident on his face. A hearty laugh escaped his throat.

Gimli joined in. "And you," he returned. He glanced around, then jested, "Not bad for a Ranger, eh?"

Aragorn laughed and shook his head. "Not bad at all," he agreed. He left them and moved along the group, greeting each one warmly. His eyes finally fell upon Ziendriel and it was he who bowed. "Princess, it is an honor to have you here," he said, softly.

She smiled and curtsied. "Arwen did not lie when she said your speech had the smoothness of a silver-tongued devil," she teased.

Aragorn looked startled for a moment, but from what he was not sure. He had met Ziendriel only once and that had been at her wedding to Legolas ten years ago; she had been quiet and reserved for most of his stay and only the most polite and sincere words had ever escaped her tongue. And what was this talk of Arwen discussing him in such a manner?

It took a moment for him to realize she was teasing, causing Aragorn to chuckle heartily. "I fear your husband's ill disposition has finally worn off on you, Princess," he returned, "But, I will admit that it suits your beauty more than it does his."

Ziendriel laughed. "I will take that as a compliment," she said. She glanced around and asked, "Where is Arwen?"

Aragorn smiled. "Somewhere in the gardens," he answered, "She has relieved the gardeners of their duties with all of her meddling." There was no malice in voice, but tenderness when he spoke of his lovely wife. "I am sure once word has reached her of your arrival she will come at once," he added.

As if on cue, the chamber doors once again burst open, revealing the most beautiful Elf Ziendriel had ever known. Though her pointed ears peeked out from between the strands of dark hair, the signs of time and change were now present upon her once immortal face. Although she had lived as a mortal for the last twelve years, it did not take away from her ethereal beauty, nor the wisdom evident in her eyes.

"Ziendriel!" Arwen exclaimed, abandoning her calm, graceful stride. She ran forward and caught her friend within a warm embrace. "It has been far too long since I have seen you!" she exclaimed once they pulled apart, "But, it makes my heart swell all the same!"

The princess laughed. "As does mine!" she told her, smiling broadly. Her stay in Rivendell as Elrond's apprentice had put her in contact with the Evenstar and it had only been a matter of time before the two had forged the bond of sisters. Theirs had been a joyous reunion when Arwen had been returned to her father's house after years of being within her grandmother's land of Lothlorien. 

Ziendriel turned towards Adrianna. "This is Adrianna Roseleaf," she introduced.

If Arwen was surprised, she did not show it, for she knew who the maiden was. She and Aragorn had been informed of her doings on the day of Legolas and Ziendriel's wedding. Instead, she moved forward and gently took her hands into hers. "Welcome, Adrianna," she greeted, solemnly, "The heart of Gondor greets you."

Adrianna stood rigid for a moment, startled by such a greeting. She finally managed a faltering stumble and humbly said, "Thank you, your Highness." She immediately blushed at the spectacle she was sure she was making of herself.

Arwen, however, merely smiled. "Come," she told both women, "Let us take our leave. The men no doubt have other things to discuss, many of which will not be appropriate for our tender ears." She sent a teasing smile to Aragorn who returned it.

Ziendriel smiled before gesturing to Adrianna to follow. The three women linked arms and departed from the room with all eyes following them. Legolas watched his wife leave, grateful for the distraction Arwen would definitely provide for Ziendriel. Once the doors were closed behind them, the Elf turned back to his friend. "There is much we have to tell you, Aragorn," he told him, "Is there somewhere we will be granted a moment's privacy?"

The king nodded. "My private study," he answered, motioning with a sweep of his arm towards a large door on the far wall. He led the way, allowing a guard to open the door, then shutting it himself when all were inside. "Please, sit," Aragorn invited, gesturing to the many chairs within the room.

As one, the Elves moved forward and took a seat, which amused Gimli to the point of muttered laughter. When all eyes turned to him, however, the Dwarf quieted down and sat.

"You may speak freely here," Aragorn told Legolas, as he settled against the cushioned, high back chair behind his desk, "This is the one haven no dares to disturb." He took a moment to study the somberness in his friend's eyes, troubled by the emotions he saw there.

Legolas nodded. "It is what I wish," he agreed, "For I am certain that the tale I am about to speak of cannot reach any other ears except those that are present here."

"By all means," Aragorn prompted, leaning forward with the interest of a concerned friend.

For the second time since their journey began, the tale of Ziendriel's miraculous conception was told. As Legolas spoke, he kept his eyes steadfast upon Aragorn, who did nothing to avert his own. For nearly an hour the two remained still, as one spoke and the other listened, their eyes seemingly unblinking.

"It is because of Ziendriel's power that we have traveled into your lands," Legolas continued, bringing his story to a conclusion, "We have learned that several Men from Yelren are responsible for the actions taken against Ziendriel, as well as the kidnapping of my son. They are asking for an exchange: Erundil for the power of Aìnu."

Aragorn was stunned. He had wondered where the Elfling had been during the joyous reunion in the Great Hall, but had not said anything for his happiness had overcome him. He had never seen the child, this son of Legolas, for he had regrettably been occupied with the affairs of his lands when the little one had been born. "They have taken your son?" he repeated, disbelieving. When all of the Elves nodded (Jhad looking more upset than Legolas on this point), Aragorn shook his head, his face grim. "This goes against everything we have accomplished in order to unite the free lands," he murmured, "This is very disturbing indeed."

"We have but a few days to reach Yelren," Legolas added, "Until then, I do not know the fate of my family; for upon arrival we will receive nothing more than further instructions."

Aragorn stood, the fading light streaming in through the windows catching his hair, crowning his head with a glorious circlet of light. All present within the room stared at the magnificent display of royalty before them, their mouths sealed in humility. "There is nothing more cowardly than a Man shielding himself with that of a young child," King Elessar stated, his face mix of conflicting emotions, "There is no honor in it. Therefore, if you will allow me, Legolas, I would that I accompany you, that I may right the wrong that has been committed against you and your family."

Legolas quickly shook his head. "I cannot ask it of you, my friend," he answered, "Our arrival was meant to be nothing more than passing; besides, I am sure your services as king takes precedence over this." He said this not unkindly for he knew the first priorities of a leader were to his people; how many times had his father reminded him of that? He would never purposefully take Aragorn from his people nor his duties for it would be a selfish thing to ask.

The revered leader seemed to read his mind, for in the next moment, he stood before the Elven prince. "I have always taught my people that only through our service to one another can our lands truly prosper," Aragorn told him, the determination set in his jaw, "Service can mean many things, Legolas, but most of all it represents love. Do you not remember the purpose of our travels as one of the Nine Walkers? It was out of love for everything we held dear that we offered our services to destroy the One Ring. It was love that drove us to protect and preserve; love that carried us through even in the darkest hour. Love was our answer when asked why and love will always be what I teach my people, first and foremost." He paused for a moment so that he could kneel before the stunned Elf. "I wish to do this service for you, Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood," he humbly said, bowing his head, "Do not deny me the opportunity to live as an example to my people."

Three pairs of Elven eyes looked to their monarch, anticipation clearly upon their faces. Gimli sat quietly, wondering why Legolas did not answer quickly. The Dwarf wanted to answer for the Elf, knowing there was a great desire in Legolas to once again be among those he had shared his life during their time in the Fellowship, but Gimli impatiently held his tongue.

It was a long moment before Legolas finally exhaled the breath he had not realized he'd been holding. "Very well, Aragorn," he conceded, grasping his arm and pulling him to his feet. He embraced him gratefully. "I will allow it, but it will no doubt be upon my head once Arwen has discovered your plans!" he added, jesting.

Aragorn chuckled. "Then you must do all within your ability to ensure that there will be no need for her wrath to present itself," he returned.


	16. Chapter 15: Reunited

**A/N: There is a poem in this chapter that I wrote, that doubles as Ziendriel's lullaby for Erundil. Please try not to laugh at it too much! Also, I am honestly trying to update this story at least once a week, so please bear with me as it is the best I can do right now!**

****

**Chapter 15**

            Dinner that night was a joyous affair for the King of the United Lands and his Queen. The smiles they wore as they sat at their table laden with the most enticing dishes, were those of pure happiness. Laughter and jesting echoed within the exquisite dining hall as the food was picked at, in favor of conversation. It had been far too long since the king's cabinet had set eyes upon the fair countenances of Elves, which now explained the open stares projected upon the latter. The objects of attention, however, were far too busy enjoying the company of one another and that of the King and Queen to notice.

            "It never fails to astound me, this beauty of the Elves," one cabinet member whispered to another that sat beside him. Both sets of eyes were focused intently on the Elf-maiden that had been introduced as the Princess of Mirkwood; whom at the moment was caught up in the re-telling of some earlier adventure of her husband, the prince. Her face was flushed and her green eyes danced merrily as she shook with laughter.

            His companion said nothing, for his throat had suddenly gone dry and his eyes refused to leave the picture of beauty seated across the table. His eyes could not decide which maiden deserved his full attention, for the princess' handmaiden sat beside her, enchanting his heart as well; on the other side of the princess, sat the Dwarf, while Legolas occupied the seat to the king's right.

            Ziendriel, as was her custom when regarding the impression she gave to those around her, was oblivious to the quiet observations of Aragorn's men. Ten years had not changed the self-image she held of herself, and the discovery of the men's words would no doubt send her heart to her feet in disbelief. Instead, she focused on the animated gestures Gimli used to tell the adventure he and Legolas encountered after the Fellowship had disbanded. She laughed particularly hard at the scene Gimli painted of Legolas being hounded by a band of angry fathers, angered over the love-sick trances he had obviously placed upon their daughters.

            "Why does that not surprise me?" she murmured, just loud enough for Adrianna and Gimli to hear. Adrianna snickered into her hand while Gimli outright roared with laughter. Her thoughts drifted back to the image of scores of Mirkwood Elf-maidens swooning over their prince; she smiled and softly laughed.

            A faint blush crept along Legolas' cheeks. "Interesting that I do not have any recollection of this…adventure, as you call it," he told Gimli, defensively.

           Ziendriel's silvery laughter rang out. "You were always guilty of selective memories, _hervenn__ (husband)," she teased, "To this day you still deny any knowledge of who really won our impromptu race through the forests of Eryn Lasgalen." Her eyes twinkled with mirth._

            Gragoc, Lorith and Jhad snickered behind their beautifully embroidered napkins, causing Legolas to look to them with warning eyes. Aragorn and Arwen shared an amused smile, while Gimli's loud laughter echoed through the halls; Adrianna had averted her eyes, but she, too was laughing, albeit silently.

            "I propose a different tale," Legolas announced, now looking to Gimli, "Mayhap starring our dear friend Gimli….and a certain er, uh….establishment in Rohan?" He smirked knowingly.

            At this, Gimli's laughter ended with a snort and he stared disbelievingly at the Elf. "You wouldn't!" he growled, the images of that adventure pelting his mind. One came particularly in sharp focus and the Dwarf shuddered as he remembered Taryn the barmaid.

            Legolas' eyes shone brightly. "Wouldn't I?" he challenged. By now, everyone had stopped and looked at the pair, their eyes going back and forth between the two. They were looking curiously and extremely intrigued.

            "Oh, do tell!" Ziendriel exclaimed, laughing.

            With the help and knowledge of the Queen, the gardens of Minas Tirith were truly a sight to behold. The grass growing within its walls were the greenest any Man had ever seen in the lands beyond the Elven realms, and the trees that sprouted forth were of the oldest and most strongest stock of Middle-Earth. Fauna and flora lazily grew in their designated areas, while the tall birches of the trees formed a protective canopy over the quiet garden.

            Concealed in the shadows of night, standing behind the large trunk of a tree near the entrance to the gardens, Legolas silently observed the lone figure seated under another tree a few yards away. He watched as Ziendriel sat there, her fingers running along the tops of the grass, distractedly. She had been sitting there for a long while now, even before he had come searching for her. Once dinner had finished, she had disappeared; Legolas had waited an hour, but when she did not return to their room, he had gone in search for her.

            The gardens had been his first guess and he had been right. Except when he had finally spotted her under the tree, something in her actions had caused his steps to falter; instinctively, he had jumped behind the tree, peering at her through the shadows.

            He saw her continue to stroke the blades of grass, her eyes staring up into the sky above. He heard her sigh, the sound heavy and burdened, saw her shoulders sag with an unseen weight. Her lips were now moving, speaking so softly that it made his Elven ears strain to hear. Curiously, he leaned closer, pressing his body against the tree trunk, his eyes focused intently on his wife while trying to hear her words.

            Ziendriel stared up into the dark blanket of night, observing the stars that twinkled high above her. She felt extremely guilty for the simplicity of being able to enjoy the night while the uncertainty of her son's life lay in the balance. Was Erundil safe? Was he being treated well? Was he still frightened? All of these questions ran through her head, these and more. She worried, but tried not to obsess over it with the maternal instincts she had, knowing she would probably scare herself to within an inch of her immortal life with all of the possibilities a worried mother's mind could fathom.

            Which was why dinner had been a most welcome distraction; for two glorious hours her mind had been free and content in the presence of Aragorn and Arwen. For the moment, she had had no cares, no pressing matters. She had been simply a princess enjoying the company of dear, old friends. She had further been put at ease over the fact that Aragorn had volunteered to help them in retrieving Erundil. She had been surprised that Arwen had not objected; in fact, from her expression, Arwen had no doubt expected Aragorn to do so.

            With the help of Aragorn, Ziendriel knew Erundil's rescue would be a success. From the tales that Legolas had told her regarding the Ranger-turned-monarch, he was possessed of a mind so clear and a heart full of compassion and honesty. Thus, with that now in the back of her head, she was able to think more clearly on the situation. She missed Erundil, missed him like only a mother could. Every day that passed that she did not have him in her arms was spent attempting to shake off the emptiness her heart screamed. Her arms ached to feel him enveloped safely within them, her ears desiring to capture the soft words of his sweet and innocent teasing. She longed to feel his smooth cheek brush against hers, feel his long and graceful arms wind tightly around her neck. She wanted to hold her son, wanted to protect him within her arms.

            Thoughts of her only child suddenly brought back the memory of Erundil's first days. He had been a tiny thing with the beginnings of the glorious sun-kissed strands he now claimed. His eyes, even at only three days old, had been bright and rivaled those of Legolas. Like many Elven babes, Erundil hardly cried and scarcely fussed; those first days had been requisite of the days to follow.

            In fact, it had been only out of love for her newborn child that Ziendriel had been able to sing the lullaby she had written during her pregnancy, for Erundil had rarely needed soothing. The words and images they conjured came floating to mind, giving her some, if any comfort as she began to sing:

_Child of heavens, wish made pure_

_Love of two who shall endure_

_I hold you in my arms' embrace_

_And look upon thine glorious face_

_Long desired a child like thee_

_To have and love eternally_

_Eyes so bright and skin so fair_

_Mother's face and Father's hair_

_You of two, were ye made_

_Bonds are strong and never fade_

            The last note of her song held in the air, echoing within her ears. Legolas watched her for a moment, then rushed to her side when Ziendriel collapsed to the ground, through her tears.

            Several hundred miles away, Erundil sat in a dilapidated cell in Yelren, his back slouched against the crumbling wall. His eyes, once so bright and alert, were now dull and glazed over. The tears he had shed over his predicament had long dried upon his cheeks and the realization had hit him hard, breaking through the mental wall he had built around him. He had been in this dark, damp dungeon for what seemed like an eternity, for there were no windows and could not measure his time by the rise and fall of the sun. He hadn't realized until it was too late that because of his windowless prison, he was beginning to fade.

            Narìn, King of Yelren, had begun to notice this as well. It had been nearly three days since their imprisonment and during that short period of time, the young Elf prince's will had rapidly declined. The child had stopped pacing his cell and had opted instead to sit in the corner. At first he had sat with his legs crosses, tense and strung; eventually he had pulled his legs up to his chest, hugging his knees. Just recently, the Elfling had taken to rocking back and forth, mumbling as he did so. Narìn, who had the cell next to the child, could barely make out the words "_ada__"_ and _"atara" _that came from his lips. Narìn had heard that Elves needed to see they sky, needed to be surrounded by nature, but he hadn't believed it; until now.

            Frustrated at his inability to help, Narìn continued to watch the boy. He moved closer the bars that connected their cells and softly called to him, "Little one, look at me." During the first days of their incarceration, Narìn had attempted to communicate with him; after all, the child was clearly a victim of Kel's insanity. His attempts, however, had been fruitless, for the Elfling had refused. He'd just shook his head at him and continued to pace his cell.

            Erundil continued to stare at the emptiness before him, his eyes even more glazed than before. His lips moved and the king could barely catch it this time: _menel_.It was one of the few words Narin knew of the Elvish language; it meant sky. "Soon, little one," Narìn told him, almost desperately, "You will see the sky soon enough!" He shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet. "But, you must endure awhile longer," he added, "If you wish to see the sky, you must come back to the living." He started to continue his encouragement, when the child's body suddenly jerked violently.

            Erundil turned his head towards the king, his eyes looking directly at him, but not seeing the monarch. Instead, the boy was seeing something else, for his head pushed away from the wall, his arm outstretched. "_Atara__?" Narìn heard him whisper, confused by the language; he whipped around, fully expecting to see what the Elfling did. There was nothing behind him._

            Through his mind's eye, Erundil saw his mother sitting on green grass, enveloped by a starry night. Very clearly could he see the twinkling stars, the black night sky, the dance of the leaves and grass as a warm breeze rushed by. His arm reached further, desperately wanting –no needing- to touch his mother, to feel her arms around him, whispering words of comfort into his ears.

            And then, he stopped. His mother was looking directly at him, her eyes shining with tears. She smiled at him, softly, lovingly, before she began to sing. She stood from her place on the ground, her green eyes focused solely on him. She slowly began to walk towards him as she sang, her arms slightly outstretched for him. Almost immediately, Erundil recognized the lullaby his mother sang, recognized it as the one song he loved to hear come from his mother's lips. His heart sang with joy and comfort, even as his eyes wept. He slightly nodded his head, watching as she moved closer and closer, until she stood before him, her hand reaching out to lightly brush his cheek; only then did he begin to sing, the innocence of his voice mixing with that of his mother's love:

_Child of heavens, wish made pure_

_Love of two who shall endure_

_I hold you in my arms' embrace_

_And look upon thine glorious face_

_Long desired a child like thee_

_To have and love eternally_

_Eyes so bright and skin so fair_

_Mother's face and Father's hair_

_You of two, were ye made_

_Bonds are strong and never fade_

            Narìn sat, astounded, as well as the other occupants of the dungeon. They all stood to grant them a better view of the Elfling, their ears ringing from the beauty of his song. They could not understand a single word of the Elvish lullaby, but each acknowledged it as one of the most beautiful things they had ever heard.

            Erundil finished the song, feeling his mother's arms embrace him. He weakly smiled and she, among the soft glow that surrounded her, beamed back. _Soon, Erundil, _he heard her whisper, _We__ will come to you, for our bond is strong and will never fade; and neither will you. She continued to smile at him, and even as he watched, he felt her lips press against his forehead. Then, she was gone._

            "Yes, _atara_," he whispered, "Soon."

            Legolas rushed to his wife's side, quickly gathering her in his arms. "Ziendriel?" he called to her softly, cradling her as she sat in a semi-sitting position. He gently cupped her chin and turned her face to his; his heart nearly broke from the tear-stained face he saw. He gathered her closer, her face buried in his chest. "_Meleth__, please do not cry," he whispered, rocking her back and forth._

            "I cannot help it, Legolas," came her muffled reply, "I miss Erundil; I need him to be here with me, with us. I need for this nightmare to end." She let out a small sob, then looked at him. "This is all wrong, Legolas!" she cried, "As much as I have loved seeing Aragorn and Arwen, we should not be here! We should be back in Mirkwood; Erundil should be running among the trees and you and I should be speaking words of love to one another, not constantly arguing. And I…I should not be having these nightmarish visions playing over and over in my head!" She hung her head, shaking slightly with her frustration.

            Legolas started. Never had he heard Ziendriel describe her visions as such. He placed the crook of his finger under her chin and gently forced her to look at him. "You did not tell me these visions were nightmares," he said, softly.

            Ziendriel shook her head. "Not all are," she answered, just as softly, "Some have been quite pleasant." She stopped, then regarded him silently. And then, almost hesitantly, she added, "But there is one that is….not so pleasant. I had thought it faded long ago, but it returned to me days before Erundil was taken. This vision has plagued me more times than I care to admit and it scares me beyond the boundaries of normal fear. I see it so vividly, so real that my heart weeps from its images." She shuddered, as if seeing them now.

            "Will…Will you share them…with me?" Legolas asked, tentatively. His blue eyes implored her, begged her to allow him the courtesy. She was finally opening up to herself up to him and did not wish for her to regret that decision. Ziendriel felt herself being pulled into those eyes, seeing nothing but love within them.

            She sat silent for a moment, furiously debating her choices. She knew that sharing this with him would no doubt give Legolas the understanding he so desperately wanted. On the other hand, would he understand enough to stay with her?

            Then, as if answering her turmoil, Aegnor's words came rushing back to her: _It is you who controls your power, not the other way around. Despite what you think, you are who you have believed yourself to be after all these years;_ _you may have been created from great power, but that power is now an extension of you._

            Ziendriel turned her eyes towards Legolas and looked directly into his eyes. "I will not tell you," she began and nearly smiled at his crestfallen face. She smiled gently at him. "I will show you instead," she whispered.

            Bewildered but pleased, Legolas took her hands when she offered them to him, and pressed his forehead to hers. Instinctively, he closed his eyes and tried to relax. For a moment, nothing happened; and then he heard the sounds of night beginning to fade away, replaced by an eerie silence. Then suddenly, a terrifying image rushed up to him, its horrifying sounds pounding in his ears.

            _Legolas felt as if he was witnessing some short of dark and terrible play, watching as the slain of the battle before him, fell to the ground. He looked all around him, saw Orcs and Goblins rushing around him, falling upon all who were unfortunate to come across their path. He saw Men fighting against Men, their armor wet with blood and grime, saw the dead of Men, Dwarves and Elves alike on the ground. He looked on, horrified, watching this battle, this Armageddon of Middle-Earth play out, destroying everything that lay near._

_            A sudden cry_ _was heard, bringing his attention, as well as those around him, to a giant hill nearby. To his horror, Legolas realized the hill was no ordinary hill, but one made of slain soldiers of battle. Upon this hill, a lone figure stood, his armor darkened with blood, his sword raised triumphantly in the air. A primal growl escaped his throat, his face mad and insane. "I am Lord of All!" he screamed, which brought cheers and cries from the Dark Creatures and several hundred Men._

_            A bright light flashed above them all and Legolas felt his attention drawn there. With a great shout of disbelief, he stared at the form of Ziendriel, seemingly suspended in the air high above the carnage. She was robed in the most glorious white dress, which off-set the brilliance of her green eyes. Her long, dark hair was loose and falling freely around her. Her lips formed a grim line, the sadness showing in her eyes. It took a moment for Legolas to understand that the power of the Man atop the mound of bodies, the carnage that he now beheld, it was all because of Ziendriel…_

            "NO!" Legolas screamed, falling backwards upon the grass. He had released Ziendriel's hands and was now gasping for air, his chest rapidly rising and falling.

            Ziendriel rushed to his side, the fear evident upon her face. "Legolas?" she exclaimed, attempting to help him into a sitting position. She winced when her efforts were roughly pushed aside.

            "I am fine," Legolas told her, a bit harshly. He pushed himself up and shook his head, trying to free it of the horrible images. _Great Valar! He thought to himself, shakily, _That___ was indeed terrible! He tried to slow the fast pace of his heart by taking deep breaths. His chest was beginning to hurt and his vision was slowly clearing._

            Ziendriel silently sat beside him, averting her eyes from him. She had taken a chance and it had backfired on her. By his actions, she could Legolas was disturbed by her vision, disturbed by her. _Well, at least I know now,_ she thought, sadly. She sat heavily on her backside, feeling the tears welling up in her eyes once more.

            And then, suddenly, she felt a hand upon her cheek, gently caressing her face. Surprised, Ziendriel snapped her head towards Legolas, her heart stopping at the expression he looked upon her with.

            Understanding.

            It showed in the small smile he gave her, showed in the eyes she loved to gaze into; they told her that he understood and now begged for her forgiveness for not telling her sooner. But most of all, it showed in the caress his fingers ran across her cheek. Without a word, Ziendriel leapt into his arms, her tears, now ones of happiness, streaming down her cheeks.

            "I did not hurt, did I?" Ziendriel asked, once their embrace had parted. She smiled as she hastily wiped away her tears with her fingers.

            Legolas chuckled. "No, _melamin,_" he answered, dropping a light kiss to her lips, "If anything, I was more terrified of your vision than of our…connection." The comment immediately brought back the vivid images he had been privy to. "Is it always that…way?" he asked, lacking for a better description. When she somberly nodded, he sighed. "Why did you not tell me sooner, Ziendriel?" he demanded, but not unkindly.

            She stared at him for a moment, suddenly feeling foolish. How was she to explain to him that she had feared he would leave her? _How do I tell you that I feared your love would diminish, Legolas? _She thought.

            She felt him start in surprise. "What?" he asked, disbelieving.

            "What?" she answered, just as surprised.

            "How could you believe such a thing?" he demanded, almost outraged, "After everything we have been through together, Ziendriel, how could you entertain such a thought?"

            Ziendriel would have laughed at the display of indignation from Legolas, had she not been troubled by the fact that somehow, _he had heard her thoughts!_ She stared at him, ranting and raving in his disbelief, then finally pressed her fingers to his lips to silence him. She stared a moment longer, then sent, _Legolas, can you hear me?_

            He rolled his eyes and pushed her hand away. "Of course I can he-" he abruptly stopped, realization hitting him. He stared at her, completely flabbergasted. "I heard you," he whispered, "In my mind!" He grasped her by the shoulders. "How is that possible?" he demanded.

            Ziendriel shook her head. "I do not know," she answered, honestly, "I suppose it is just another ability of…my powers." She said the last of her sentence hesitantly. Not until now had she'd claimed her powers; the acknowledgement had a sudden, but strange effect for she suddenly felt…unburdened.

            Legolas was silent for a long moment, then asked, "Is this what happened between you and Aegnor earlier today?" He remembered the way the dragon had roared, as if in pain.

            She slowly nodded. "Yes," she answered, "He touched my mind to try and understand…me, I guess. Unfortunately, I was not in control of my thoughts or emotions and I somehow….hurt him. With my mind." She took a shaky breath.

            "Is that what you allowed me to do, Ziendriel?" Legolas asked, softly, "Touch your mind so I might see…?" He saw her hesitation, then her small nod. He smiled, knowing that now, she was finally returning to him. "Then we have yet another task to master," he told her, teasingly, giving reference to her archery lessons.

            Ziendriel smiled, giggling softly. Before she realized what she was doing, she leaned in to capture his lips with her own. Legolas eagerly met her, softly brushing his mouth against hers at first, then more insistently. He crushed her to him, wrapping his arms fiercely around her, wanting to protect and love her in the same moment. He felt her arms wrap securely around his waist, pressing her soft body deeper into his.

            From the concealment of the shadows of the garden's eastern exit, Aragorn and Arwen smiled as they gazed upon the two lovers. It had been their intent to help bring Legolas and Ziendriel back to one another, but their efforts were unnecessary; the Prince and Princess of Mirkwood had already accomplished what they had sought to remedy.

            King Elessar took the hand of his Queen and quietly led her away, leaving Legolas and Ziendriel in one another's arms.


	17. Chapter 16: Revelations

**Chapter 16**

            The next morning rose bright and early, but Ziendriel did not find Legolas beside her in the large bed. She slowly sat up, her eyes taking in her surroundings; Aragorn had given them the most spacious room on the top floor of his house, not because of their status, but because of their tendencies. This particular room had large windows, ones that extended from floor level to the ceiling, while the room itself was furnished with some of Gondor's oldest artifacts and fixtures. It was truly a beautiful room, from its paintings to its simply eloquent tables and dressers; velvet drapes dressed the windows, complimenting the gossamer silk that also hung there. The sunlight streamed in through the clear glass window panes, bouncing and reflecting off of the golden candlestick holders and other fixtures within the room.

            She had not noticed the room until now and was immediately reminded as to why, when the sheet that had been covering her suddenly slipped from her fingers. The cool morning air rushed across her bare skin, causing Ziendriel to blush at the memory of the previous night's…events. Their kiss in the gardens had been the floodgate to the emotions suppressed during their less than civil times to one another; she did not remember how, but Legolas had led her back to their room, his lips not once leaving hers. The thought of someone witnessing their display of unbidden passion made her blush even harder, especially if she and her husband had not been aware of the fact.

            Ziendriel was no fool; she knew that lovemaking would not fix the problems that they faced nor did it dissolve the nightmare they had. But, it gave her comfort in knowing that Legolas understood her and still loved her, standing by her side and not allowing her to be alone. It gave her hope that everything would work out, and faith that she had the support and love of her family and friends.

            Glancing once more around the room, Ziendriel spied a dress hung delicately over one of the wardrobe doors. _The servants must have come in early this morn, _she thought as she walked over to it. Clutching the sheet tighter to her body, her hands reached out until the tips of her fingers brushed the soft material. She smiled at the lightness of the dress, wondering for a moment if the dress belonged to Arwen, for the design was unlike that of the Gondorian women.

            She quickly released the bed sheet, allowing it to puddle around her on the floor. She had just slipped the dress over her head when the door to the bedchamber opened. Whirling around to investigate, a smile immediately brightened her face as her eyes fell upon Legolas striding purposefully into the room.

            "I am glad to see you are awake," he told her, stopping a few inches before her. He kissed her lightly on the lips, a broad smile on his handsome face.

            Ziendriel returned his smile. "Good morning, Legolas," she greeted, "You were not here when I awoke; where did you leave to so early in the morn?" She asked this even as she adjusted the dress upon her body.

            "Alas, Aragorn thought it necessary for us to meet," Legolas answered, "He still thinks with the mind of a Ranger; he does not wish to walk into Yelren blindly."

            She nodded. "I am grateful for his help," she said, fidgeting with her necklace, "I must admit that I feel much more secure in knowing Erundil's return will be imminent."

            Legolas did not answer, but instead watched as she fingered the jewel around her neck, noticing its glowing orb. It was a beautiful trinket, one that he had not noticed before. "What is that you hold, _meleth_?" he inquired, curiously. His hand reached out to touch it and to his amazement, the glass orb began to glow brighter.

            She hesitated for a moment before answering. "It belonged to the sorceress," Ziendriel explained, "Aragog had it in his possession and decided it belonged with me. He gave it to me before he left Minas Tirith." She shifted on her feet, uncomfortable with the fact that she was once again being focused on.

            "It is curious that it came to you in the manner that it has," Legolas murmured, still staring at the necklace, "Curious that it has found its way to you, its rightful owner." A bit louder, he added, "The circle has been completed, has it not?"

            Ziendriel started at his comment, knowing he spoke of her destiny coming full circle. "Yes," she replied, slowly, thoughtfully, "I believe it has."

            Legolas smiled encouragingly at her. "Come," he told her, taking her hand, "The morning meal is ready and Arwen has requested a moment of your time beforehand."

            This peaked Ziendriel's curiosity. "Did she say why?" she asked, puzzled.

            "Nay," came the reply, "But, she did hint to its importance." He shook his head playfully. "You women and your secrets!" he teased.

            His wife smiled and swapped him on the arm. "I will not dignify that with an answer!" she shot back, sticking her tongue at him. "But, I will make haste," she added, smoothing down her dress, "It would not do well to make the Queen of Gondor wait!"

            Legolas smiled once more and offered her his arm. Ziendriel linked hers through his and gladly allowed him to lead her downstairs to the main hall.

            Arwen stood in the large front hall, waiting patiently. She looked calm and serene, the epitome of grace and beauty. The moment her eyes caught sight of her friend, a bright smile stretched across her lips. "Come, Ziendriel," she said without preamble, grasping her firmly by the arm and pulling her out of Legolas' grip, "There is something I must show you."

            Bewildered and surprised, the Princess of Mirkwood did as she was told, sending an apologetic look to her amused husband. She followed Arwen's hurried footsteps down the hall, finding herself in an unfamiliar corridor. She almost tripped on her own feet when Arwen pulled her towards the door at the end of the hall.

            Upon entry, Ziendriel found herself blinded by the day's bright light streaming in through the open windows of the room. Once her eyes were adjusted, she was able to see that she now stood in what seemed to be a small library, with shelves on all four walls, stacked to capacity with books of old and new alike.

           Arwen let go of her arm and immediately went to the shelf on her right. Her long, slender fingers perused the volumes, her eyes traveling over their covers. For a moment there was silence; then…

            "Ah!" Arwen softly exclaimed. She pulled one of the books off of the shelf and turned back to her bewildered friend. She quickly walked over to her, a small, leather bound book in her hands; she handed it to the princess.

            Ziendriel stared at it curiously, her fingers running over the worn cover. "What is it, Arwen?" she asked.

            "Father sent that to me several weeks ago," Arwen answered softly, "His only explanation was that it was to be of use in the following days. I was to keep it safe, here in my private library until your arrival. I did not understand at first, not knowing how Father could have known you would arrive here; but he somehow knew and here you are." She smiled. "I knew of the contents this book holds, but did not know how it pertained to you. It was only after I spoke with Aragorn last night did I understand." She gently took the book again and opened its cover.

            _It had never crossed my mind that Lord Elrond would not have told Arwen, Ziendriel thought, then turned her attention back to the book when the mortal Elf pushed the bound volume back to her._

            The first page consisted of one single line, bearing the name and symbol of Aìnu. Ziendriel felt the air around her thin, felt the blood draining away from her face. She uttered a soft, strangled gasp.

            Arwen smiled at her surprise. "The sorceress kept a personal account of herself in addition to that of the scribes," she explained, kindly, softly, "She gave this to Father for safekeeping before she fled to Eryn Lasgalen." She opened the book to the last page, where it indeed explained the intentions of its owner.

            The shock began to creep into Ziendriel's face, her eyes wide with surprise and her mouth slightly agape. It affected her speech greatly for she found she could not utter anything but small gasps of air.

            "Do not say anything," Arwen said, understanding, "For your words are not needed. Ponder upon the things within this book; ponder them with your heart, as well as your mind." She leaned over and gave her a small, encouraging kiss on the cheek. "I place this book into your safekeeping," she added, "For I am sure it is what Father, as well as Aìnu, would have wanted."

            When Ziendriel joined him for breakfast, Legolas noticed how quiet she had become. Curiously, he looked at her as she took her seat beside him, questioning her with his eyes. She offered him a smile and a small shake of her head, then turned her attention to the a question asked by Adrianna.

            _Later, she sent._

            Legolas gave a small start, still unaccustomed to Ziendriel's new power. He recovered quickly, even as Gimli asked from across the table what was wrong, and turned his attention to the food being served. Following his wife's lead, he indulged himself once again in the food and company.

            Breakfast ended quickly, and at Aragorn's request, their company joined him in his private study. As one, they moved silently to the appointed room and took their seats: Legolas and Ziendriel sat directly across Aragorn's desk, surrounded by the others. They all sat, waiting expectantly for the king to speak. There was a thick cloud of anxiety and anticipation in the room.

            "We leave for Yelren at nightfall," Aragorn announced, "I fear I have kept you far too long as it is." He could feel the tension lift, only to be replaced by grim determination.

            Ziendriel shook her head. "Do not think it, milord," she told him, "I would rather leave prepared and days late, then early and lost. You have done so much for us in this endeavor." She favored him with a shy smile.

            Legolas, seeing this, shook his head decisively. "No matter the skill of your wily ways, wife," he told her, firmly, "You will not be going. It is much too dangerous."

            If Ziendriel had hoped the others would agree with her, she was greatly disappointed: a resounding murmur of agreement from the others rippled throughout the room.

            "Dangerous for whom, Legolas?" Ziendriel demanded, her temper flaring, "If I do not accompany you and the men of Yelren discover this, you will be in more danger than if I had!" Her green eyes were flashing now, reminiscent of the fire and passion Legolas knew so well. "If I am allowed to travel with you," she added, reasoning, "at least then will I be able to ensure you, as well as Erundil, some degree of safety."

            "Use you as barter, is that what you suggest, princess?" It was Jhad who was indignant now. "I do not think it wise!" Lorith and Gragoc once again voiced their agreement.

            "I agree, milady," Adrianna told her, her face white with fear. She clutched her mistress' arm. "It would do well if we stay here with the Queen; where the men go is no place for a lady." Her hands had begun to tremble.

            Ziendriel rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated. "Do you not understand that it is because of me that we are her, at this point?" she demanded, turning to each of her loved ones in turn, "Whether you or Jhad or any of you in this room refuse to admit it, I am needed if we are to bring Erundil safely home."

            "No," Legolas said, flatly refusing.

            Ziendriel's expression softened, as did her heart. She knew what he was feeling, what he was thinking, as if it were her own mind: he was afraid of losing both her and Erundil. She reached out and touched his arm lightly. "Yes," she said, softly. Legolas snorted, but avoided her eyes.

            Aragorn, who had been quietly watching the exchange, cleared his throat. "I am afraid I will have to agree with your wife, Legolas." He announced.

            Seven pairs of eyes snapped to the former Ranger, even as Ziendriel gasped and Legolas shouted, "NO!"

            The king held up his hand to silence any further protests. "While I do not agree with idea of using her as leverage," he explained, seeing Legolas' livid face, "I will agree that it would be near impossible to ensure Erundil's safety without her. She goes."

            A stunned silence followed his words. Ziendriel was shocked, but pleased nonetheless. She chanced a look to her husband and nearly burst into laughter at the stiffness of his back and the way his jaw clenched in defiance. His eyes were boring into the face of his friend, the king, and Ziendriel knew his mind was working fast. In the next moment he curtly nodded and grunted in agreement, an action that she knew was very hard for he did not agree with the situation at all. It was Gimli, however, who did guffaw aloud, his eyes refusing to back down from the icy glare the Elf gave him.

            Wisely, she held her tongue and cast her eyes to the floor. A small smile twitched at her lips. _We're_ _coming, Erundil! She thought._


	18. Chapter 17: New Beginnings

**A/N: Someone (sorry, I forgot who; but thanks for the idea!) wanted a glimpse of Legolas' marriage proposal to Ziendriel; here it is! I was surprised at how easily it fit into this chapter, so I hope you all enjoy it!**

****

**Chapter 17**

            Narìn, imprisoned king of Yelren, chuckled as he watched yet another guard stalk away from the dungeon, angrily slamming the main door behind him. The monarch's actions were echoed by his loyal men, who had awakened from their slumber once the ruckus had begun.

            All imprisoned had been jolted awake by the shrill cry of the Elf child. Each captive had felt their blood run cold as their thoughts immediately went to torture, horrified that Kel, the traitorous leech the he was, would stoop to such barbaric actions against a child. Their horror had been replaced by surprise when their eyes beheld a guard, a towering bulk of muscle and brawn, frantically spinning around in the Elf's cell, attempting to pry the child from around his neck.

            Erundil had laughed at the startled eyes of the guard, grinned at the way the foolish Man stood frozen to the ground while he had leapt up at him. It was only after Erundil had felt his feet land squarely upon broad shoulders had the Man finally reacted. 

            A loud shout had escaped his mouth and his hands went immediately for the child. What knowledge this guard had of Elves had flown out the window for he vainly tried to wrestle the child's arms from around his head, forgetting that all Elves (even children as small as Erundil) were the recipients of super strength. So it was without success that the guard attempted to remove the child, who held on with the grip of cave troll.

            To the amusement of the rest of the prisoners, these antics had continued for a good, several minutes, which only furthered to delight the child. The scene of the tiny Elf laughing almost joyously with his arms and legs wrapped around the head of the guard was not a sight to be easily forgotten.

            It was only after the arrival of several more guards that Erundil released his unwilling accomplice. Almost reluctantly, he had jumped down from the guard's shoulders and sat, innocent-like on the eroding bench near the wall. His grin, however, was hard to wipe from his face.

            The humiliated guard had raised his hand in anger, only to be stopped by one of his comrades. In a low, dangerous voice, the latter whispered something that made the first pale. He mumbled some sort of apology to both his comrade and the Elf, who only looked curiously at him.

            One by one, the guards left, passing Narìn and his loyal followers, ignoring the scathing looks the king and his men threw their way. The door slammed closed after them, its echo reverberating in the cavernous room.

            Narìn looked back to the Elf and could not help himself; he smiled. "Thank you for the momentary distraction from our situation, young one," he called to him, chuckling.

            The child's smile faltered for a moment, then brightened once more. He focused his eyes upon the king, his feet swinging almost leisurely above the dirty floor. At that moment, he looked as an Elf child, or any child for that matter, should: happy and carefree.

            It was curious as to the child's mannerisms at present, for it had been not more than two days ago that the Elfling had been on the brink of insanity. Had this not been the same child who had curled up into the corner of his cell, mumbling to himself, casting glazed eyes round? Yet, here he was now, sitting almost contentedly on a bench in a foul dungeon, as if it were the best place in all the land to be.

            "What has brought this sudden change?" Narìn murmured to himself, though his eyes were still focused on the child.

            With a slight cock of his head and his ears perked, Erundil stared at the monarch, his face now thoughtful. It was as if he had heard the provocative question. He pointed to himself, smiling, then said clearly, "_Atara__."_

            Narìn started, clearly surprised. The child was speaking to him! He felt an enormous surge of joy ripple through his body as the realization sunk in. He cautiously walked over to the bars their cells shared and pointed at Erundil. "_Atara__?" he asked, almost timidly. Long ago, as a boy, he had dreamt of conversing with such a creature; this opportunity seemed too golden and he did not chance to ruin it. He unconsciously held his breath._

            The child laughed, the sound like notes of a song which immediately relaxed the king; he slowly released his breath. He shook his head. He pretended to frown, then pointed to his eyes and said, "_Atara." He smiled broadly._

            The monarch frowned, trying to understand. What was the child trying to tell him? He sat for a moment, concentrating hard, trying to keep the window of opportunity open. And then….it hit him. He had heard that word before, the night the child had turned for the worst. The young one had appeared almost ghost-like, almost soulless, when the most interesting thing had happened. The young prince had looked past him, as if seeing something- or someone- and had begun to sing that enchanting song. That had been the turning point for the child was now recovering quite well….but, why?

            As if to sense his confusion, Erundil smiled more encouragingly. "_Atara__," he repeated, slowly, his blue eyes bright and wide. "Muu-der." He frowned slightly, then tried again. "Muu-thh-er."_

            Narìn listened carefully, his mind trying to comprehend. "Muther?" he repeated. When Erundil nodded, he repeated, "Muther….muther…." The idea struck him. "Mother!" he exclaimed, excitedly.

            Erundil smiled broadly, mirroring that of the Man. "Mother!" he repeated, carefully, nodding almost frantically, "Mother!" He clapped his hands. "Mother..comes," he added. The frown reappeared as he tried the Westron word upon his tongue.

            "Your mother is coming?" Narìn asked, puzzled, "Here?" He pointed to the ground, exaggerating both his hand and mouth movements.

            Erundil nodded. "Mother…comes…here," he answered, confidently.

            _How? Narìn thought to himself, _I do not profess to be an expert in the ways of the Elves, but how could the little one possibly know that his mother is coming for him?__

He glanced once again at Erundil, noting how happy and content he appeared, and decided to keep his doubts to himself.

            With the hint of morning seeping its way into the darkened sky, Ziendriel breathed a sigh of relief. It had been Aragorn's idea of wisely traveling under the cloak of night (as to keep the element of surprise on their side) and to stop periodically during the day as was appropriate. And, as the sun was slowly trumpeting its impending arrival, she knew it also announced a well-deserved break.

            She did not know how Legolas could ride upon his horse for hours on end; especially with Gimli seated right behind him. All she knew was that her delicate backside was now screaming for her to walk. A quick glance to her left told her that Adrianna was more than ready to do just that!

            Though her steed ran as swiftly as those of her companions, it did not make it easy for her to follow any train of thought she had. But, think she did and even more so after the fact that she had caught sight of the sun's first light brilliantly bouncing off of the thin chain loosely hung around her husband's neck.

            With each bounce of Legolas' horse, the chain rose from beneath his tunic, only to once again nestle safely against his chest. The movement immediately brought to mind a lovely afternoon, many months after her abduction and return….

**FLASHBACK**

_            "You are not concentrating, Ziendriel," Legolas murmured, even as his hands wandered down the length of her hips, his warm breath against her ear._

_            She blushed a deep crimson before stepping out of his arms. "Yes, well," she murmured, nervously clearing her throat. She clutched her bow in front of her, as if to protect herself from his amorous advances. When he once again reached for her, she slapped his hands away. "You are not making this easy, milord!" she exclaimed, clearly flustered. She glanced around her, looking for an escape from her slowly advancing suitor._

_            Legolas chuckled. "Who said it must be?" he teased, grabbing for her hand. She must have anticipated it for she immediately skirted out of his reach. He pretended to be exasperated. "Why do you insist on resisting me, melamin?" he demanded, though his eyes twinkled with mischief._

_            Ziendriel rolled her eyes. "Are you not the one who always said lessons first, leisure later?" she shot back._

_            "Of course," he answered, "But, that was before I found you." He suddenly lunged towards her, capturing her around the waist. He chuckled when she began to struggle. "I will make you a deal, Ziendriel," he told her, holding fast, "If you are able to hit this-" He pulled a small, black pouch from within his tunic. "-then I will desist and we will continue with your lessons. And whatever treasure is inside will be yours to keep."_

_            She stared suspiciously at him. "And, if I don't?" she asked._

_            He stared incredulously at her. "Must I explain everything to you, meleth?" he asked, pointedly._

_            "You are truly evil to tease me so!" she exclaimed, blushing once more, "especially when you hint at such…intimacy that does not exist between us!"_

_            "Yet," Legolas added, grinning._

_            Again, Ziendriel rolled her eyes. "Alright, I will agree to your proposition," she surrendered, "If only to cease your teasing!" She focused her attention on the black pouch. "What is in that?" she asked, for its contents did nothing by way of hinting to its identity._

_            "You will find out," he answered, still grinning, "Once you successfully hit it." He shook it invitingly, releasing her. She stepped away from him, then stared intently at the intended prize. Finally, she shrugged her shoulders._

_            Taking  a deep breath, she said "Alright," and raised her bow. She readjusted the arrow in the notch, then cocked back her arm. "I am ready," she told him._

_            Legolas slightly bent his knees and pulled back his arm. He quickly glanced at the Elf maiden next to him, then threw the pouch high into the air._

_            Ziendriel trained her eye on the falling object, concentrating all of her energy on it. In the moment that it entered her line of normal vision, she released her bow._

_            The tip of the arrow nipped a corner of the pouch, ripping the delicate material and sending the bag off in an entirely different direction. The arrow embedded itself in the trunk of a nearby tree while the pouch tumbled to the ground._

_            "That does not count!" Legolas exclaimed, seeing the triumphant look on his lady's face._

_            "You said I needed to hit it, Legolas," she countered, "You did not say how." She walked over to the pouch and picked it up. "I hit it, did I not?" she demanded, holding it up for him to examine._

_            Legolas snorted in disbelief. "Well, yes," he began, "But-"_

_            "But nothing!" Ziendriel interrupted, smiling broadly, "I won." She rose up on her toes to deposit a small, quick kiss to his lips._

_            Legolas grunted. "Fine," he grudgingly agreed. He motioned to the pouch. "Open it," he told her._

_            Ziendriel did, then started at the sight of the object inside. "Oh my!" she gasped, her eyes flying to Legolas', "Legolas, I-I…oh my!" Her eyes returned to the pouch._

_            He grinned, gently taking it from her. He turned the bag over and dumped its contents into his hand: a brilliant silver ring. It was devoid of any jewels or decorations, its beauty marked by its simple band of intricate inscriptions._

_            "When a male heir of the kingdom is born, a royal ring is forged for his future bride," Legolas explained, "I was given this ring when I came of age. It has been safely hidden until the day of its purpose." He smiled softly at her._

_            Ziendriel stared at him. "Legolas, what are you saying…?" she whispered. The sounds of the forest had suddenly grown in volume, causing her already burning ears to ring._

_            "My father told me that this ring would see the sun's light only twice," he continued, "On the day it was forged and the day it would be given to its rightful owner." He held it up for her to see the sunlight bounce off of it. She felt her breath catch in her throat._

_            He looked at her then, his blue eyes intensely focused on hers. "Melamin, I will not waste my breath this day declaring my love for you," he announced, "For I believe I have the rest of our lives to do that. But I will ask that you allow me the opportunity to do so."_

_            Ziendriel felt her throat constrict, making it hard to swallow the large lump that had suddenly formed there. She looked from Legolas to the ring, then back to him. "Y-Yes," she croaked, for it was all she could think to say. She was confident that anything else would not have been understood._

_            Legolas grinned, then deftly slipped the ring onto her finger. He chuckled at her surprise. "Legolas, it is too big," she said, shaking her hand slightly, then laughing at the way it danced around her finger.._

_            "That is because it fits my finger," he explained, showing her by way of a brief demonstration, "It is to remind you of my love and commitment to you." He pulled a delicate chain from inside his tunic. "I have yours here," he added, showing her the thin, delicate duplicate that hung there. The band was thinner, but also silver and when the light hit it, she could see identical inscriptions written there._

_            "When was this one made?" she asked, carefully touching it. She could not remember seeing even a hint of it or its chain in all the days she'd spent with him._

_            His hand closed around hers. "The day you were returned to me after your ordeal with Adrianna," he whispered._

_            Ziendriel stared at him, clearly at a loss for words. She blushed at what she saw in his eyes, the intensity and longing deep within those orbs, and quickly averted her eyes._

**END FLASHBACK**

            As the memory faded, Ziendriel stared at the ring she held in her fingers, tears springing to her eyes over its preciousness. She gently closed her fingers over the cool metal and reveled in the smoothness of its surface against her skin. She had cherished the ring, as well as the symbol it stood for, close to her heart, for she had never been without it. She had put the ring upon a thin strand of mithril and fastened it around her wrist, a constant companion and reminder of what it represented. She had all but forgotten about it, her mind preoccupied with other things…until now.

_            I was foolish to ever doubt Legolas' love for me,_ she thought, watching the ring move in time with her horse's stride, _Not when I had proof of it with me the entire time I doubted him!_

She glanced at her husband, who rode at the front of their group, Gimli, as always, with him. The sun was no longer hiding behind the mountains, granting Ziendriel a perfect view of him.

            Though an Elven warrior of Mirkwood, with his back straight and proud, his body lean, fit and full of strength, Ziendriel knew that only one thing dominated her husband: his heart. He could be as fierce and merciless as the next Elf, then soft and empathic the next. These actions and more were ruled by what his heart felt; she knew this, saw it every time she told him she loved him, every time he taught Erundil the ways of a Mirkwood Elf.

            She stared at Legolas for awhile longer, mesmerized by the sight of him. _I love you, Legolas, she sent, softly._

            She saw his back straighten, saw his head snap up a bit. Then, with a fleeting look of smugness thrown over his shoulder, she heard his playful, but sincere reply:

            _I know._

            "What is this book that you intently peruse with each spare moment?" Gragoc demanded, teasingly snatching the book from Ziendriel's hands. He was grinning like an idiot and the mischievous light had returned to his eyes. They had stopped for the first time of the day and were now setting up camp under the noonday sun. The others, who had been busily arranging the makeshift campsite, stopped to watch.

            Just as quickly, Ziendriel snatched back the sorceress' journal. "I will not waste my breath explaining it to you, _mellon__ muin," she teased, "But, I will tell you that I know you will not enjoy it for it has no pictures!" She smiled sweetly at him._

            Several peals of laughter sounded from behind the pair, but it only caused Gragoc to grin wider. He swiftly grabbed the princess and held her firmly in a headlock. "Now we will see how witty you can be, hmm?" he told her, chuckling.

            Aragorn, who was not accustomed to their brand of jesting, immediately stepped forward to assist the princess, but was told by Legolas to simply stop and watch. He complied with a raised brow.

            Ziendriel, meanwhile, struggled for a moment then laughed. "Indeed we shall!" she answered, her voice muffled. In the next moment, she quickly straightened up as much as her position allowed and swung one leg high up into the air. She pulled it towards her, then promptly popped Gragoc in the face with her pointed foot.

            With a great shout that startled the birds from the trees, Gragoc released the princess and grabbed at his nose. When his vision cleared, he saw Ziendriel standing in front of him, smugly smiling while the others gasped with laughter.

            "What have you been teaching this wife of yours, Legolas?" he demanded, gingerly touching his nose. Shock did nothing to hide the fact that he was impressed by the maiden's move.

            Legolas laughed harder. "Do not look to me, Gragoc," he answered, "I most certainly did not teach her that!"

            "Well, then I will give her a lesson of my own!" Gragoc announced, lunging forward.

            Ziendriel squealed and promptly ran for cover behind her husband. "Why must you all insist on chasing me like a deer?" she exclaimed, keeping Legolas in front of her, even as Gragoc tried to reach around him.

            He did not answer, but chortled with laughter. Legolas, in the meantime, was fast becoming tired of being used as a shield. He quickly pushed Ziendriel in front of him and all but shoved her into Gragoc's arms. "Here!" he said, laughing at the surprise in his wife's eyes.

            "Legolas!" she exclaimed, even as Gragoc threw her up onto his shoulder. She mockingly glared at him. "So much for your promise to protect me!" she added, rolling her eyes.

            "You were doing well but a moment ago!" he called after her, for Gragoc was now running towards the small pond nearby. He continued to laugh as he watched the two struggle at the pond's edge. It ended with Gragoc's pitiful attempt of tossing Ziendriel into the small body of water, only to have her grasp tightly at his arm at the last moment, taking him with her with a loud splash.

            The group's laughter was interrupted by a loud, but dangerously sounding snort that silenced all who heard it. Gragoc sprung to his feet and immediately pulled Ziendriel up and behind him. A slight frown appeared on his face as his ears perked up to the slightest sound. He silently motioned for Ziendriel to follow him towards the pond's edge, their movement causing soundless ripples to twinkle across the water.

            Legolas stood frozen to his spot, his hands slightly itching from the absence of his bow. His eyes roamed the tall patch of trees they had decided to set up camp in, his ears trained on the path the wind blew around them. He made to move towards his quiver lying against a tree several feet away, only to stop when a loud, deep growl echoed from within the brush. He easily pinpointed the sound and locked eyes first with Aragorn (who nodded grimly in understanding), then with Gragoc. With only a small nod of his head, he was able to communicate his orders to his friend: _Get Ziendriel to safety._

            Gragoc immediately complied and quickly, but silently rushed the princess towards the trees just off to the right. Ziendriel, who was more puzzled than frightened, knew better than to question Legolas in a situation such as this and wordlessly obeyed. She saw Lorith draw his blade from its sheath and held it at the ready, even as Jhad stepped forward to protect Adrianna.

            In the next instant, Ziendriel found herself flung to the ground, even as she heard Gragoc shouting among deafening growls and snarls. Coughing from the dirt that had flown up as she'd hit the ground, Ziendriel quickly rolled onto her back and nearly screamed at the sight before her.

            Gragoc had obviously sprinted away from her the moment he'd thrown her and was now leading a very large, oversized warg towards him. The vicious animal, oblivious to the fact that an Elf-maiden lay behind it, snarled and stomped its feet in anger, its black eyes fixated on the shouting Elf before it. What fur remained on its scarred body (for it appeared patches of fur had been shorn away by a careless axe) was raised and on edge, and foam cascaded from its mouth to the ground. 

            Aragorn drew his sword as he flanked the animal on the right, with Legolas on the left. Jhad was in the process of unsuccessfully getting a terrified Adrianna into the high perches of a tree, while Gragoc and Lorith were busy distracting the warg from the king's and prince's intents.

            The warg, while keeping its eyes on the two Elves, sniffed deeply at the air, causing its large nostrils to flare. With a great roar, it reared up on its hind legs and threw back its gigantic head. Its front paws came thundering down upon the ground, causing a slight tremor to reverberate through the dirt. To all who looked upon the scene, it appeared as if the creature had caught the scent of some sort of prey and was now intent on finding the source.

            And before she knew it, Ziendriel saw the warg's gigantic head turned towards her, the glint in its eyes almost triumphant. She heard the loud snort from its nose, heard its low, primal growl just before it took off in a surprising burst of speed towards her.

            With a small scream, the Princess of Mirkwood scrambled backwards, her feet tangling in the wet folds of her drenched dress, making it impossible for her to stand. Frantically, she pulled and tugged at the soaked material, only to realize a moment later that it wouldn't cooperate.

            She was trapped.

            With shock freezing her in place, Ziendriel glanced up, her eyes locked with that of the charging beast. Fear gripped her heart as the warg thundered closer, its paws against the ground like thunder in the sky, drowning out the shouts emitted from her husband and friends.

            Unconsciously holding her breath, Ziendriel closed her eyes against the image of the maddened beast, her fear wrapped around her like a sheet of cold ice as she waited for her end…..


	19. Chapter 18: Musings and Thoughts

**Chapter 18**

            With the warg thundering towards her, Ziendriel closed her eyes and waited for her end to come…

            …and waited.

            So wrapped up in her fear, it took her a long moment to realize that the thundering paws had stopped, as well as the frightened shouts from her husband and friends. There was now an eerie, stunned silence that permeated all around her, which immediately roused her curiosity.

            With mixed emotions of fear and interest, Ziendriel slowly opened one eye and surveyed her surroundings. To her great surprise, the warg was nowhere to be found. But, neither were the others. At closer inspection she found herself in the perches of a tree, one not to far from the one Adrianna sat in. The men were where she had last seen them, frozen in place but now with identical flabbergasted looks upon their faces. Some were directed at her, while the others were….

            _What are they looking at? She wondered, realizing that Aragorn, Adrianna and Lorith had their heads flung back, open-mouth amazement as they stared at something high above in the sky. She reached over to wring some of the water out of the soaked material of her dress and was successful in freeing her legs._

            When she straightened up, balancing easily on the thick branch, she found that no one had moved. The king, her handmaiden and brother-in-law were still staring stupidly into the sky, while Legolas, Jhad, Gimli and Gragoc were looked intently at her. Feeling overwhelmingly self-conscious, Ziendriel felt herself blush. "Legolas?" she called to him, jumping down from the tree and stepping forward.

            In answer, Legolas merely pointed up into the sky. Puzzled, she stopped, then looked up and for the second time in only a space of an hour, almost screamed again.

            The warg, the same that had been charging at her just moments ago, hung suspended in the air high above the treetops. A faint, yellow glow surrounded the frozen beast, contrasting greatly against its dark fur and hideous scars. The creature did not move and from her vantage point, Ziendriel could not tell if it was still breathing.

            Understanding was lost upon her until, even as she lowered her head and caught the intent stares of her friends. Baffled, her eyes returned to the hovering warg, then back to the group. "What happened…?" she began to ask, but stopped when she found them all staring.

            Her disbelief seemed to break the enchantment the turn of events held over them, for it appeared as if everyone was instantly brought back to reality. Almost immediately, she saw their eyes shift away from her and look elsewhere. Shaking his head slightly, Legolas focused his eyes on his wife and made to go to her. He was halfway to her, when Aragorn's shout prevented another step.

            "Look out!" the king cried, his eyes once more to the sky.

            All eyes returned upward, only to find the warg was slowly beginning to move, even as its light barrier forced it to descend. Once again, Ziendriel felt herself freeze, but fear did not rule her. Instead, it was curiosity that rooted her feet to the ground. She watched as the animal's fall gained speed, sending it hurtling towards….

            "Ziendriel!" Legolas yelled, his eyes following the warg's falling body. It was now thrashing and snarling against some invisible restraint, closing the distance between it and the princess. Legolas urged his feet forward, hoping to gain momentum, but feared he would be too late.

            All the while, Ziendriel did not move, but merely stared at the falling animal in some sort of detached fascination. She watched as the warg fell, marveling at the fact that she could see the blacks of its eyes as it came nearer….. 

            Her green eyes were wide with disbelief as she finally realized the situation. She finally did scream and scrambled back, just as the warg slammed into the space where she had, just moments, ago stood.

            Shaken and disoriented, the beast slowly got to its feet and shook its gigantic head clear. Fear leapt into Ziendriel's heart as she watched it, hearing it snort and growl as its great body shook and moved. Its black eyes once again found Ziendriel when its vison cleared, and by instinct, it immediately lunged at her.

            Truly terrified, she screamed and threw her hands out and in front of her, as if to feebly ward him off. _Why will my feet not move?_ She thought, even as she realized her limbs had gone numb. She once again waited for her body to be crushed between the animal's jaws, but found she could not close her eyes this time.

            Time seemed to slow as Legolas stopped to watch the scene unfold before him. He saw the warg push its great weight off of its hind legs, saw the power in its intended tackle. He stood there, hopelessness washing over him as he heard the dark creature growl in an almost triumphant way.

            And that was when Legolas finally noticed it:  Ziendriel's hands were beginning to glow. Not faint like the wall that had surrounded the animal while in the sky, but with the intensity of a bright new star in the night sky. He saw his wife's face fill with the utmost confusion as she stupidly stared at her hands, even as the warg's foaming face came within view. Ziendriel no longer seemed concerned about the imminent attack, only to wonder why the light of the sun now enveloped both of her hands. Legolas watched as the fur of the warg's face pushed hard against her palms, only to be quickly repelled.

            Ziendriel watched as the glow around her hands seemed to concentrate, then shot out towards her attacker. Like an arrow being released from a bow, the beast sped away from her, then catapulted high into the sky, disappearing over the treetops.

            Taking a deep and shaky breath, Ziendriel heavily sat down on the ground, still staring at her hands. She watched as the glow began to diminish, its brilliance slowly disappearing. The warm, tingling sensation she had felt as the light had grown was now seeping from her, leaving her hands cold. When it was finally gone, she continued to stare.

            Legolas ran to her and knelt before her. "Ziendriel?" he said, softly, taking her hands into his. When she did not answer, he tugged slightly at her fingers. "_Meleth," he whispered, concerned._

            Slowly, Ziendriel brought her eyes to meet her husband's, her head agonizingly taking its time to rise. She took a shaky breath and attempted a sheepish smile. "I do not think he will be bothering us anymore," she told him, then promptly blacked out.

            "What happened?" Ziendriel asked much later in the day. She had passed out for nearly an hour and Legolas, after Jhad a surmised at her exhaustion at using her untrained powers, had decided to have her rest. They had laid her under a great and shady tree, comfortably positioning her on a makeshift bed of leaves and grass. They were now sitting around a small fire, quietly eating a small meal.

            "Before or after you sent that warg flying?" Lorith asked, teasingly. He winked roguishly at her, causing her to slapp his arm.

            "What was that warg doing here?" Adrianna asked, "I thought they had disappeared along with the rest of the Darkness." She handed her mistress a plain goblet filled with amber-colored liquid and encouraged her to drink. In all truth, Adrianna had nearly collapsed twice during Ziendriel's ordeal: once when the princess had seemingly disappeared from the warg's path of rampage, and again when she had sent the creature far away.

            "Not all disappeared," Aragorn answered, somewhat grimly as he smoked from his favorite pipe, "After the War it was not unusual for our watch to witness hordes of Dark Creatures streaming towards Mordor. Mount Doom no longer threatens the sky with its ash and smoke, but its inhabitants nest at its base, I assure you." He casually put his pipe between his lips and inhaled. "We have constant watches informing us of attempted uprisings, but those are easily put to rest," he continued, "There seems to be a select few who think it is well within their reach to bring Darkness once more to Middle-Earth, but they will not succeed as long as the Unite Kingdom stands."

            "The warg must be one of the few who did not return to Mordor," Aragorn added, blowing a small cloud of smoke from his lips.

            Adrianna shivered, her lips twisted in disgust at the thought of the Dark Creatures still out there. She shook her head and turned her attention back to her mistress, who was frowning. "What is the matter, milady?" she asked.

            "What is this, Adrianna?" she asked, peering into her cup, "It tastes like the sleeping draught Velia forced upon me before she removed that arrow from my back!" She swallowed hard, then coughed.

            The handmaiden looked surprised. "Arrow from your back?" she repeated, somewhat horrified.

            Ziendriel laughed and waved it off. "I will tell you about it some other time," she said, shaking her head at the memory.

            "It is a good thing your powers did not manifest themselves until after that," Lorith teased, "Or we would have had to retrieve the Dragon from the highest tree!" He knew if Velia was here, she would surely skin him alive for using her nickname.

            Ziendriel threw a small rock at him, which bounced easily off of his arm. "Will you stop teasing me?" she demanded, though her eyes twinkling, "I assure you, if I could repeat what happened with the warg, I would attempt it on you right this instant!"

            Lorith laughed. "I do not doubt it, Zien!" he said, "But, how will you explain your actions to your lovely sister, hmm?" An eyebrow raised questioningly at her.

            She stuck her tongue out at him. "I will no doubt be able to weave a credible tale excusing myself from blame," she shot back, smirking, "I should, do you not think, after being around you?" They shared a laugh with the others.

            Legolas, however, frowned. "Do you mean you cannot repeat what you've done?" he asked of his wife.

            This took her by surprise. "How can I, Legolas?" she answered, truthfully, "When I do not know how I did it in the first place!" Her frown mirrored his.

           Aragorn looked at the couple. "Interesting," he murmured. He put down his pipe. "Ziendriel," he said, addressing her, "Do you remember anything in the instances that your powers presented themselves?"

            She sat and thought for a moment, everyone looking curiously upon her. "Well, when the warg charged me the first time," she admitted, "the first thought in my mind was to remove myself from its path. Of course I could not, due to my dress." She absently plucked at the material of her now dried dress.

            "What was your next thought?

            A pause. "Well, this might sound silly," Ziendriel replied, blushing, "But, once I realized I was trapped, I imagined myself pushing the warg away." Her ears were now a lovely shade of pink.

            "Did you just think it or did you imagine it, milady?" Aragorn pressed.

            She frowned as she concentrated. "I believe I imagined it, milord," she answered, her brow furrowed. "Yes, I remember seeing myself standing and as the warg leapt at me, pushing it from me," she confirmed. She saw the king start and frowned. "What is it, milord?" she asked.

            Aragorn held his pipe out to her. "Do you think that you could make this hover in the same manner as the warg?" he queried, "Do you think you can imagine this pipe floating, much as you did imagine the beast flying away from you?"

            Ziendriel seemed taken aback. "What do you think, Jhad?" she asked her guardian, "Is this the secret to the power of Aìnu?" She turned to him, her face eager and hesitant at once.

            "I do not know, Ziendriel," he admitted, his blue eyes abashed, "My duty is to merely protect you; I admit I was not taught the reasoning nor the workings of such power." He was saddened by her crestfallen face. "I am sorry," he added, somewhat miserably.

            She offered him a comforting smile. "It is not by tour fault that I do not know this, Jhad," she told him, "It is something, I suppose, that I must learn for myself." She smiled once again.

            Aragorn held the pipe out to her once again. "Will you try?" he asked.

            Hesitantly, Ziendriel took the object from him. She stared at him for a moment before letting her eyes fall upon her husband. They stared at one another for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, she nodded in understanding and determination. "I will try," she agreed

            From the view of his balcony of his private study, Thranduil, son of Oropher and King of the woodland realm known as Mirkwood, watched as the large group of people disappeared among the trees of their home. This was the second group in one week's time to start their journey to the Grey Havens, where a whole fleet of ships awaited their arrival. From their, these Elves, as well as those in other realms would be taken to the safety and comfort of Valinor, home of the Valar.

            This sight should have greatly warmed the king's heart, for it meant his people, his way of life would be preserved and live on; but it did not. He found it hard to be joyous at the departure of his people, not when his son, daughter-in-law and grandson were out among evil. The thought of not seeing them again before his impending departure did not sit well with the monarch, but could not think of anything to dissolve the feeling of hopelessness that ruled his heart.

            He was not blessed with foresight like his beloved daughter-in-law nor like the revered Lord of Rivendell, Elrond. How he wished that Lord Elrond was still here and not afar in the Undying Lands, for he could surely use the gift. Weeks had already passed since Legolas and his company had departed and although Thranduil could not expect any communication from his son, his father's heart desperately needed one.

            Although nowhere near to being empty, Eryn Lasgalen was beginning to feel so. The Time of Elves was coming to its end and Thranduil did not regret his role, as well as the role of his people, had come to play in Middle-Earth. What he did regret, however, was the journey that his children were forced to take. Had it been within his power, Thranduil would surely have taken them to Valinor years before.

            And now, this. Truly, Thranduil had never thought of the consequences of his actions of not telling Ziendriel the truth. She had not given him any reason to doubt his decision, for things could not have worked out better for the lovely Elf: a lovely home, loving parents, and the love of her prince. The birth of Erundil, in his opinion, had only sealed the fact that hers was a prosperous life.

            He had never imagined that the truth could be so roughly told. Having his grandson taken tore at Thranduil's heart, but he could not imagine the plight Ziendriel must have faced when given the truth about herself as well.

            He glanced once more out into the forest, then into the darkening sky. The forest was settling into its nocturnal cycle and he could hear the gentle songs of the birds as they sang good-bye to the day.

            "May the Valar watch over you and guide your way, my children," Thranduil whispered into the wind. Images of Legolas, Ziendriel and Erundil flashed before his eyes, even as the tears began to form. Hastily wiping them away with the back of his hand, the King of Mirwood retreated back into his study.

            Tiruc took a deep breath and once again plunged his body into the small river that ran alongside the wasted forest near the king's stronghold. The cold water bit into his skin, but he did not cry out. He forced his body to stay under until the stinging subsided and only then did he come up from air.

            "Does that really work?" a voice from behind him asked, amused.

            Whirling around, grasping his sword from its sheath, Tiruc raised his weapon in warning. He laughed as his eyes fell upon his friend. "For the moment, yes," he answered, wading towards the bank. He carefully climbed out and slightly shook his drenched body.

            "Really?" Kel murmured, the laughter in his dark eyes. He studied his friend for a moment, then asked, "They are growing worse, are they not?" The light in his eyes were now sympathetic.

            Tiruc ran a hand through his wet hair. "Yes," he answered, simply, "The visions of the Elfling's mother comes more frequently, more stronger. I cannot seem to purge her lovely face from my head nor my heart." He growled in frustration. "I will not hesitate to admit that my need for her has grown into an obsession. Since the promise of Elven magic has been made, I have determined that the Elf-maiden belongs at my side…and I will not stop until she is!"

            Kel smiled at his friend's declaration. "And, I have told you, my friend," he said, clasping him on the shoulder, "She will be." He grinned, then nodded to the river. "In the meantime, I believe you shall become more acquainted with the river than most Men will in their entire lifetime!" He chuckled.

            Tiruc grimy smiled. "I have no doubt about it, Kel!" he answered, good-naturedly.


	20. Chapter 19: Prayers For Ziendriel

**A/N: There are a few questions that need answering, so please bear with me!**

**Elfcarii****: Sorry, I guess I didn't explain about Elrond, did I? I'll have to go back and fix that! But, this chapter will answer your question on where Lord Elrond is.**

**Liz: You asked what I meant about "Since the promise of Elven magic had been made." Kel and Tiruc are determined to get the sorceress' powers; they have no doubt that they will get it. They're basically counting their chickens before they hatch, if you know what I mean. So since they believe it, Tiruc, in turn, believes Ziendriel will definitely be his!**

**Winter's Roar: LOL, the guard was scared because he didn't expect Erundil to do something like that. And once Erundil was on him, he was afraid that he wouldn't let go; plus he was worried about being able to breathe. I think I better go back and describe that properly. ;)**

****

**Chapter 19**

            The halls of Rivendell stood isolated and quiet as the sun slowly set beyond the Elven haven. Silence reigned within the hallowed corridors, immune to the life that blossomed outside its walls, as the setting sun reclaimed its rays. There was no movement, no sound here, which would make one who did not dwell in Imladris believe it to be abandoned.

            At the far end of one of the long hallways, two figures stood silently before the door there. One was peering through the slightly open door, while the other stood closely behind his companion. Both were tall and lithe and dressed in the finest tunics Rivendell boasted; circlets of silver encircled their heads, contrasting against the dark hair that fell down their backs, the distinguished marks of rank stopping high above their pointed ears.

            These were the twin sons of Elrond, Lord of Rivendell. Born to him and his wife Celebrìan many millennia ago, Elladan and Elrohir were counted as two of the three most blessed things the elder Elf could desire. Trained in the ways of an Elven warrior, the twins were unmatched in their skills and wit, as well as their strategies. Though two separate beings, the pair often acted as one; they emulated the strange bond that only twins could have and share, making them somewhat of an enigma to all who dwelt in their homeland.

            But, despite the airs of warriors that they were, it did not replace the fact that they were the sons of Elrond first and foremost. Their father had been the first to hold them after their mother had labored for many hours to bring them into this world, and from it, their bond had been sealed. From then on, Elrond had been the first person they had gone to for advice and wisdom, for none could leave the presence of the lord and not be enlightened.

            This explained why the two now stood before their father's study, the concern clearly written on their faces. It was the faces that their mother (before her soul-shattering encounter with Orcs) had lovingly called, "Father's creases." With their brows furrowed and their mouths sloped downwards into frowns, Celebrìan had often jested that the twins were their father's doubles.

            The twins were concerned, for today marked yet another day that their father had remained in his study, isolating himself from the few Elves that remained in his land. This, too, included his sons.

            "What is he doing now, Elladan?" Elrohir whispered, attempting to peer over his brother's shoulder but failing to see anything. He rose up onto the balls of his feet and when realizing that this, too, did not accomplish what he wanted, blew out a frustrated breath.

            The older of the twins, Elladan jabbed him sharply in the side. "Do you wish for Father to hear you?" he demanded in a deadly whisper. When his brother shook his head and glared at him, Elladan smirked. "Besides," he added, "Father has not moved once from that spot on his balcony and I've been watching him since after the noon day meal!" He continued to smirk, even as he turned away, once more focusing his eyes upon the lone figure of their father.

            "What do you suppose is troubling him?" Elrohir asked. He had seen his father disturbed like this once before and he did not care to have his thoughts dwell on the events of the One Ring ever again. And although Father had been greatly upset by that, it was nothing compared to what Elrohir now saw on his face.

            "I do not know," Elladan answered, worriedly, "But, it must be a great burden for he has not eaten in over three days' time." He did not turn to answer his brother, but rather stayed his dark eyes upon the troubled Elf standing illuminated within the sun's departing rays.

            Elrohir chewed upon his bottom lip. "I am worried, _muindor_ (brother)," he murmured, "Until now, he had been set upon leaving for the Grey Havens, eager to see Mother once again. But once that messenger from Eryn Lasgalen arrived, Father has refused to leave." The memory of the messenger bearing the scroll of ill news jumped up at him.

            Elladan sighed and gently guided his brother away from the door. "What do you expect him to do, Elrohir?" he demanded, though there was no anger in his voice, "Ziendriel is our sister or have you easily forgotten that?" When his twin shook his head, he added, "It was most disturbing to discover that Erundil had been taken; I cannot imagine how it must have affected Father."

            "But, do you not think it strange that the youngling was taken by a group of Men?" Elrohir persisted, "Perhaps that is what is so troubling to him? Otherwise, Father would trust completely in the skills of Legolas to rescue his son."

            "'Tis strange, I agree," Elladan answered, "For I do not believe a kidnapping would delay Father from his departure for this long. There is more to this than what Father is telling us, but what?" His brow furrowed again in deep thought.

            To that, Elrohir had no answers.

            Standing on his balcony, deep in thought, Lord Elrond of Rivendell was oblivious to the fact that his sons were just outside his door, mulling over his changed stature of late. Instead, the wise Elf stood rooted in the exact spot he had stood for the last several hours, his hands clasped tightly behind his back, his face pulled into a deep frown. His posture suggested at his frustrations and worries, which transformed him from the regal ruler of the safe haven he called home, to an elder troubled with his gift of foresight.

            His visions, results from being blessed with such a gift, had become troubling as of late. He had seen many visions before, both good and bad, but never before had it shaken as this one did now. Death and grief filled this revelation, and despite the fact that he had seen countless dreams such as this many times before, it did not change the fact the he was greatly disturbed by it.

            He did not know if it was because the vision came so close to him, for it was one which showed his darling Ziendriel. Though not his daughter by blood, the Elf maid had become so in every other way during her many, wonderful years in Imladris. And because of it, her current situation had cut him very deeply. He could remember only one other time when his vision had linked directly to him and caused him grief: when his beautiful Evenstar had been set to marry Elessar. Elrond had seen his beloved daughter's fate once she had joined with his adopted son, and he had wept.

            And now, he wept again. The foresight in which he had been granted concerning his daughter caused his mourning heart to shatter even more. He did not know how and when the events were to happen, but happen they would, and Elrond knew there was nothing he could do.

            What could he do? The will of the Valar was not his to tamper with and he would not do so. He had thought that after all his years here on Arda, he would have accepted the place in which Death had in life.

            But, as Elrond thought, once again, about the vision he had received many nights ago, he knew that he had not.

            At the same moment Elrond wept from his vision, his daughter, once the Evenstar of her people, sat weeping in her garden. Arwen did not cry as her father did, for she had not been blessed with his gift; no, the Elven lady wept from fear for her beloved husband and friends. Sacrificing her immortality and experiencing the emotions of mortal life was still somewhat alien to the Queen of Gondor. Often times she caught herself thinking with the ways of her Elvish mind and all of its wisdom and experience, much to the delight of Aragorn. It was an old habit to break, but Aragorn always assured her that it was a habit that must not be broken.

            At the moment, the Elvish knowledge of Arda and life escaped her. The realities of a mortal life assaulted her mind with each passing second, and had steadily grown stronger since Aragorn's departure with Legolas and Gimli. She doubted not the skills of her Ranger husband, nor the intent within his heart. What she did doubt was the safe return of her husband, for the intent within the hearts of the Men he would face was not pure nor honorable. Aragorn's mortality was such a fragile thing and Arwen feared it would not hold up against this.

           Her heart continued to weep as her thoughts fell upon Ziendriel. Through her tears, Arwen recalled their first meeting. Ziendriel had still been a child when they had met, but it had not discouraged the bond that had instantly formed between them. It had been a delight to have another female within the household, for although she loved her brothers dearly, Arwen had fast become tired of combat strategies and the care of weapons. A gentle, caring soul had been what she desired, and that had been answered with Ziendriel's arrival to Rivendell.

            Arwen cringed at the thought of what must run through her dear sister's head every second of the day. Though Ziendriel had smiled and laughed, Arwen had seen the grief and sorrow within her sister's eyes.

            Sliding off of the bench she sat upon, Arwen gracefully lowered herself to the grass and promptly knelt. She adjusted her dress around her, grateful for the soft, lush grass beneath her knees. Clasping her hands together, Arwen bowed her head and, through her tears, began to feverishly pray to the Valar to guide and protect her family and friends.

            The blanket of night surrounded the house of Jerec and Lilia Yalith, its companion of stars twinkling brightly, even as the occupants of the home settled in for the night. One by one, the servants extinguished the lamps within the house, then slowly made their way to their own quarters, leaving the rooms enveloped in darkness.

            The door to the master suite slowly swung open, creaking in protest as its hinges were suddenly pushed in the opposite direction. Bare feet stepped out onto the hallway and noiselessly walked the length of the hall before stopping before the closed door at the end.

            Lilia Yalith stared at the door, her body immobilized as she did so. She could hear her heart beating rapidly in her ears, feel it in her chest. She did not know what force kept her from reaching out and opening this door; all she did know was that the thought of entering this room scared her.

            She did not know how long she stood there, but her heart registered it as an eternity. She knew she was being positively ridiculous, but, she could not bring herself to do such a simple act as opening an door.

            And then, as if her body knew of the struggle within her, she saw her hand reach out and connect with the doorknob. The metal felt cool under her fingertips, almost calming the storm within her heart. She forced herself to turn the knob, and with a breath, pushed the heavy wooden door open.

            Darkness did not cover the room as it did the others in the house; instead, the full moon's light filtered brightly in thru the window, bathing the area within the four walls in a silver beam. Lilia deeply breathed in, then stepped further into the room, her eyes taking in her surroundings.

            She knew it was silly, but she had kept Ziendriel's room in the exact state her daughter had left it on the day she became Princess of Mirkwood. Most of her daughter's personal effects had been removed and taken to the royal suite, while those that had not been needed were carefully packed away and stored. What remained in the room now was simply a wisp of Ziendriel: her desk and chair, her favorite chair for reading, an empty wardrobe, and a neatly made and untouched bed. To an outsider it might appear as a simple guest room; to Lilia, it was her way of keeping close to her daughter.

            With both of her daughters married and in their own homes, Lilia had often felt the pang of a lonely mother's heart. She was grateful and happy her daughters had found love and happiness, but it did not erase the feeling of emptiness within her home. At times she would find herself longing to hear Ariel tearing thru her wardrobe, only to shriek a moment later that she did not have anything to wear; or to find Ziendriel curled up in the kitchen's window, her nose buried in a book; or to even hear her girls quarreling over something or another. With just she and Jerec in the house, its walls only reverberated silence.

           Walking over to the bed, Lilia softly sat upon it, her hand automatically running across the soft material of the blanket. A small smile appeared as her thoughts returned to the many times she had tucked Ziendriel under these covers, wishing her a good night's rest and promises of a brand new day awaiting her. How she wished for those days now!

            Ziendriel had left the safety of Eryn Lasgalen's borders many days ago, but it did not lessen the fear that she still felt with each passing day. She began each day with a prayer to the Valar to keep her children safe, to guide them through this ordeal and return home safely, and ended it with the same. She would pray for the return of her grandson, daughter and son-in-law, and would continue to do so until she had them back within her arms.

            Feeling her tears returning, Lilia grabbed the pillow from its place at the head of the bed and buried her face within its softness. As she did so, the scent of wildflowers tickled her nose, startling her. There was no mistaking her daughter's scent, no mistaking that scent mixed with the fragrance of the pages of a book. Lilia found herself inhaling once again, pressing the pillow closer to her as she did so. The scent filled her entire nose and slowly made its way thru her entire body, calming her like she had never been in the last few days. She kept the pillow to her face, smiling thru her tears, and curled upon the bed. In just a moment's time, Lilia felt herself falling into a blissful sleep.

            With each passing moment, Tiruc felt his blood beginning to boil. His thoughts ran wild, but did not discourage him from the angry stride he persisted in front of his tent. His pacing had become prominent from the moment he and his men had arrived at the appointed meeting place with the Elves and he had not broken from it since.

            Not when he felt her so near.

            It sounded crazy to even him, but with this meeting of the Elves, the Elfling's mother became one step closer to his grasp. He had not known such torment such as this; he had lusted after women before, but what he felt for the Elven maid went far beyond that. Tiruc knew his lust passed the borders of such emotion and plunged deep within an obsession. How had he ever slept or breathed without this magnificent creature by his side? How had he made it this far into his existence?

            Tiruc did not know, but he no longer wanted to be without her. The maid was his, his heart had claimed her upon their first meeting and he would strike anyone who dared come between them! He no longer cared for logic or reality; his reality consisted of him as one of the most powerful men on Middle-Earth, his reign complimented by the beautiful creature of light beside him.

           This was his logic, his world. He would do anything to have her, to claim her body and soul with a single, searing kiss. Nothing would keep her from him; he would do anything to have her….anything!

            And if that meant his presence in the woods of Yelren during the dark of night would achieve this, then so be it! He was a man with a mission and would not be deterred!

            He peered out into the darkness, his eyes squinting to catch every movement within his line of vision. No activity could be detected. "Where the bloody hell are they?" Tiruc muttered impatiently.

            His men chuckled among themselves, carefully out of their captain's earshot.

**Lita**** the Vampire Slayer: Awesome name! And thanks for your review! I'm always surprised at how many people have actually read the first story and enjoyed it. Thanks so much!**

**Icy878: Ah, one of my faithful followers…and reviewers, too! You are so awesome to have been so patient with me. I promise I will try harder to keep this story going!**

**Aerin**** Brown: I'm glad you think Tiruc is freaky…it was my intent! I'm glad I'm getting that across! As always, I appreciate your reviews!**

**Simply Sara: Stop it! You're making me blush! J BTW, read your story, "Above All." Awesome, girl! Forgive me for not leaving a review! Love your characterization of Haldir!**

**Orioncat****: As to the fate of Tiruc and Kel and the part Ziendriel has in it, I think you'll be satisfied for what I have in store for them. ;)**

Funky4657: Ah, so you were the inspiration for Legolas' proposal. I thank you very much!

**To everyone else I might have missed: I'm not excluding you, honest! You are all very important to me and this story, so please remember that! Like I promised to Icy878, I am making an effort to getting the chapters out more quickly! So please bear with me…I'll even let you all curse me if it makes you feel better! ;) Also, because I am so incredibly grateful your reviews and comments, I would be more than happy to read any stories that you have written! You only need to ask!**


	21. Chapter 20: Turning Tide

**A/N: No, the story is not complete yet, if you are wondering. But the last two chapters are clearly not co-operating, and seeing as Chapter 19 was posted almost two months ago, I decided to be nice and post the next chapter. Think of it as a little treat for taking this long. Also, since I don't know the proper translations for Elvish, some conversations in this chapter in between mean it is spoken in Elvish. Other than that, nothing complicated!**

**Chapter 20**

            Dawn broke upon the kingdom of Yelren, but despite the promise of the sun for a new day, a storm raged within the walls of the dilapidated keep. Screams of rage could be heard from within, as well as shouts and thunderous footsteps. Those not within the king's court cringed at the clamor and puzzled at its cause.

            Kel, the traitorous advisor to the now imprisoned king of Yelren, sat upon the throne, his eyes dark and narrow, a sure sign of his displeasure. Before him, his loyal man Tiruc rampaged through the crumbling hall, tearing anything that reached his fingertips. Among the growing pile of debris, lay three severely beaten men, all of whom were under the command of the man who now sought to destroy the room. All three groaned with pain even as droplets of their blood seeped from open wounds on their faces and bodies, proof that Tiruc was indeed crazed. The men had been unfortunate in that they had been the nearest things once all of the room's chairs had been destroyed.

            "How dare they!" Tiruc screamed, spittle soaring from his mouth, "They dare! They dare to defy us!" With each enraged word, he continued to destroy the room, tearing the tapestries from the walls, pushing over the tables and armoires. When he finally faced a bare wall, he turned back to Kel and uttered a ferocious growl. "What now, Kel?" he demanded, stomping over to him, "This was not in your plan, was it? What do we do now?"

            If he hadn't already been incensed by the current situation, Kel would surely have wondered at the distraught state of his friend. Never had he seen such primitiveness in a man before, for Tiruc surely had reverted back to the functions of ancient men. The desire to destroy with rage because of unexpected circumstances, the wild light that blazed in his eyes, this was not the Tiruc that Kel had known through his lifetime. Seemingly, his friend was now replaced with this…beast.

            Nevertheless, this new behavior did not bode well with him. "Calm yourself, Tiruc!" Kel barked, his anger rising with annoyance, "All is not lost! You would know it had you thought with your head instead of your loins!" He smirked when he saw his friend stop abruptly, his face turning purple with indignation. "Do not speak!" he added, warningly, "For it will only further your troubles!"

            Tiruc glared at him, his eyes narrowed down to dangerous slits. He opened his mouth stupidly, then just as quickly shut it. He stalked over to an unbroken chair and threw himself upon it.

            "I will agree that the absence of the Elves is most displeasing," Kel told him, slightly turning to him, "Especially since we could not be any more specific with the time and place in our ransom note. But, it is a minor thing, I assure you. The Elves will not abandon their own." He brought his fingers together and pressed them to his chin, thoughtfully. "They refuse to follow our rules," he murmured, "That tells me they will attempt to do things their way…the only question now, is when and how?" He fell silent as his thoughts washed over him.

            Tiruc continued to glare from his seat. "And what, pray tell is 'their way'?" he demanded, sourly. His eyes fell again to the three men that lay on the ground and felt his lip curl contemptuously.

            "If I am not mistaken, Tiruc," Kel shot back, "Elves are known for their stealth, are they not?" When the angry man grudgingly nodded, Kel smirked. "That is 'their way,' Tiruc," he answered, "I do believe the Elves will attempt to steal back what we have taken….without our knowledge." He looked pointedly at his unenlightened friend, as if willing him to understand.

            Tiruc sat there for a moment, processing his words, then felt his eyes widened as if he had not thought of the possibility they now faced. "I will double the guards and watchtowers around the keep," he said, leaping to his feet.

            Kel chuckled. "Yes, good suggestion, Tiruc," he said.

            From the shadows of the woods that stood behind the stronghold of Yelren, Legolas watched the flurry of activity before him. He watched as the rotted wood gate of the outer wall pushed open, sending out a storm of about fifty men, all dressed in armor. These men added to the protective ring that already surrounded the once great building, widening its radius by several more feet. Above them, more men scattered along the wall, also in armor and took their posts. Shouts of orders could be heard in the air, as well as their replies.

            Legolas turned to the crouching figure of Aragorn beside him and darkly smiled. "Arwen will surely have my head now," he murmured.

            Aragorn smiled, holding back his chuckle. "Not just yet," he whispered. He cocked his head to the side, listening. "We must move," he murmured, "They've sent their watch this way."

            Legolas nodded and quietly followed his friend deeper into the woods. The trees grew closer together with each step they took towards the heart of the forest, causing the air to find other ways of moving through its growth. They stopped only when the light grew dimmer and the sounds of the forest grew quieter. They glanced around, then quickly climbed the trunk of the nearest tree: a large, fully grown oak.

            High above in its branches, the rest of their company sat waiting. Gimli looked very unhappy to be precariously balanced on a thick branch several feet above the ground. Legolas took one look at his face and nearly laughed; it was reminiscent of the face the Dwarf had had when he'd learn they would be riding a horse during their hunt after Merry and Pippin.

            Gimli saw his friend struggling to hold back his laughter and growled. "Quiet!" he hissed.

            Ziendriel smiled softly at him, almost laughing aloud when he nearly lost his balance. Her hand shot out to steady him, then turned her eyes to her husband. "What news, Legolas?" she asked.

            "It is apparent that our absence was missed last night," the prince answered, somberly, "And it was surely not appreciated." He exchanged grim looks with Aragorn.

            "They have set more guards in and around the keep," Aragorn explained, slightly shaking his head, "Although it will make our entrance more difficult, it can be done, nonetheless."

            "What do you propose?" Lorith asked, frowning.

            Ziendriel strained to listen as Aragorn proposed his plan, but her concentration was interrupted by an all too familiar ring in her ears. She uttered a soft, "Oh!" then felt herself quickly falling backwards.

            Jhad went to her immediately, catching her securely before she could fall from her perch. He watched as her eyes rolled back and her body went limp as the vision washed over her. Only when she blinked did he help her into a sitting position, gently rubbing her ears.

            "What did you see, _meleth__?" Legolas murmured, coming to her side. He saw the violent tremble of her body and frowned at it. He had never seen a vision that made her tremble like this and it worried him._

            It was a long moment before she answered. "I-I don't kn-know," she answered, wiping a few tears away. Her eyes met his for a moment, then turned away.

            _What is it, Ziendriel? He sent to her._

_            Nothing, Legolas._ Came the reply, _I-I…it was nothing, melamin. Nothing._

            She slightly turned away, only to find Adrianna beside her. "Milady?" she murmured, her face pale with worry. She took her hand and gently patted it. Jhad, sensing the privacy needed between the two friends, discreetly left them alone.

            Ziendriel weakly smiled and gave her hand a squeeze. "Before this is over, Adrianna," she whispered to her, "There will be many things that will have happened that we will not understand why." She softly sighed.

            Adrianna peered at her closely. "I do not understand, milady," she whispered back, well aware that the prince now watched them, "What will we not understand? What things must happen?" She looked earnestly at her.

            Ziendriel shook her head. "You will remember my words and understand later," she answered, and said no more, much to the handmaiden's dismay.

 Legolas was also put off by his wife's evasiveness. There was something she was not telling him and he knew it had to do with the vision she had just received. He watched as Jhad helped Ziendriel to her feet, noticing that she avoided his gaze. This did not sit well with him, for it was obvious that this latest vision had clearly shaken her.

            He did not receive the opportunity to press the issue, for in the next moment, Gragoc was urgently motioning for him. He complied and joined his friend, then abruptly stopped. They could see through the leaves and branches below them that several of Yelren's men were fanning the area, walking directly under their tree. Legolas motioned for them all to remain quiet, keeping his eyes intently on the Men. He ordered Gragoc, Lorith and Jhad to spread out among the tree, while keeping Aragorn and Gimli beside him. He was just about to order their attack when he heard Adrianna urgently whisper, "Milady, no!"

            Whirling around in his spot, Legolas was just in time to see Ziendriel disappear below the branches. He watched in shock as she landed gracefully to the ground and took off running. "_Meleth__!" he yelled, forgetting the soldiers._

            It was too late. The guards had already caught sight of the Elf maid running and immediately turned to follow her. Shouts and thundering footsteps echoed within the forest, sure to bring more of Yelren's men.

            "MOVE!" Legolas ordered, and as one, four Elves, a Dwarf and a Man disappeared from the treetops. Unaccustomed to this sort of activity, Adrianna struggled down the trunk of the tree, only to feel a hand grasp her ankle.

            Terrified, Adrianna looked down, then nearly fell from surprise. "Milady!" she gasped, "What-"

            "Not now, Adrianna!" Ziendriel cried desperately, "Get back into the tree!" She pushed her upwards and scurried after her.

            They had just made it back into the tree when more guards came crashing through the brush. Ziendriel held a finger to her lips, motioning for her handmaiden to quiet her heavy breathing. They silently watch, terrified of being discovered as the Men glanced about the area. A shout suddenly sounded, leading the Men away. In the distance, they could hear shouts and yells of Men, Elves and Dwarf and the clashing of weapons. Ziendriel cringed with every clash and felt the tears stinging her eyes.

            And then….silence.

            Ziendriel felt her heart leap into her throat and held her breath. _Please let Legolas and the others be alright! She prayed silently, __Please! A moment later, she heard footsteps growing closer to their hiding place. Below them, a whole storm of guards stalked by, six prisoners being roughly led after them._

            Beside her, Adrianna began to silently weep.

            The inside of the Men's stronghold met Legolas with a glaring deafness that made him wince. One look at the crumbling walls and grime covered floors brought to mind the tombs of those long ago departed, which surprised the Elf. If anything, he had expected Yelren to take upon itself the maturity and age of a small kingdom worthy of claim to Gondor. This decaying place looked nothing like what he had envisioned.

            The same thoughts ran through Aragorn's mind, for he did nothing to mask the emotions that crossed his face. His eyes took in his surroundings with sorrow and astonishment, for in himself did he put the blame of Yelren's obvious demise. He shook his head and cast his eyes shamefully to the ground.

            "What has happened to this place?" Jhad murmured, though to no one in particular. His hands, like that of the others, were bound behind his back, but did not prevent his curious eyes from wandering the hall. His voice held wonder, but did not mask the surprise at the crumbling sight before him.

            One of the guards roughly poked him in the back, catching the Elf by surprise and causing him to stumble. "Quiet!" the guard barked, his face contorted in a sneer. Jhad returned the gesture, but his was far more intimidating between the two. The guard immediately dropped his eyes to the floor and mumbled something incoherent.

            Jhad shared a small smirk with the others before they were ushered into the main hall. Though the sun shone brightly outside, it was not hard to notice the difference inside: light was evident, but the mood was not. In fact, the tension immediately enveloped the small group, giving evidence of the under current of anger that permeated through out the room.

            Upon the dais, sitting slouched with anger, sat a Man. His dark eyes remained focused upon the group as they were ushered before him, his jaw clenching with each passing second. They were a curious group of mixed races: Elves, Man and Dwarf; what common good could they all share?

            Tiruc wondered the same, but unlike his friend, did not keep his thoughts to himself. He sneered as he demanded, "What business does a Man, a Dwarf, and four Elves have here?"

            Both Aragorn and Legolas fought to keep their laughter smothered, even as Gimli broadly grinned. It was reminiscent of their great friend Eomer, now king of Rohan. The seasoned warrior had uttered much of the same words when he had come upon the Three Hunters during their quest to rescue Merry and Pippin from the Uru-kai.

            Gimli opened his mouth to reply, only to stop when Aragorn painfully stomped on his foot in warning. The Dwarf frowned at his friend, but shut his mouth.

            Aragorn stepped forward and bowed. "We are merely a band of friends who have unwittingly wandered into your lands," he began, but was cut short by Legolas.

            "I've come for my son!" the Prince of Mirkwood bellowed angrily. Aragorn inwardly groaned at the Elf's sudden outburst of impatience.

            This took the Men by surprise. "What did you say?" Kel demanded from atop the king's throne.

            "Several weeks ago your Men attacked a company of Elves," Legolas answered, "My son was among them; you took him and I want him back!"

            Tiruc stepped forward, the astonishment clear on his face. "The Elfling is yours?" he demanded. When Legolas belligerently nodded, he frowned. "Then, that would mean the Elf maid…" he trailed off, the comprehension dawning. His face contorted with rage. "NO!" he screamed, unsheathing his sword. He took one menacing step forward, his weapon raised.

            "Tiruc, halt!" Kel barked, astonished at his friend's rash behavior. Two guards unwillingly stepped forward to block the crazed man's advance on the now thoroughly confused Elf. Kel stood from his seat and rushed to the struggling man. "I know of your intent, my friend," he told him, "But, we cannot think of him in his true capacity…yet." When his friend continued to struggle, Kel lost his patience. He shoved him off to the side, growling. "You will listen to me, Tiruc!" he demanded, grabbing him around the neck, "This Elf has been sent in accordance to our instructions! For all we know _he may be the one blessed with the power of the sorceress! And I'll be damned if I let you kill him!"_

            Tiruc returned his glare. "How do expect me to react, Kel?" he muttered, sneering, "That Elf-"

            "That Elf," Kel interrupted, his voice dangerously low, "is the key to discovering Aìnu's power. You follow through with your intentions, Tiruc, and I swear that I will throw you into the dungeons myself!" His eyes glinted treacherously.

            This silenced Tiruc, but did not diminish the dark cloud of rage around his face. He glanced towards Legolas, who was watching the exchange curiously and found his blood begin to boil once more. He tore his eyes away and returned their gaze upon his friend. "For now," he muttered, darkly, "I will stay my hand against the Elf…but once we discover who it is, I will, as you say, follow through with my intentions!" He roughly shoved Kel's hand away from his neck and stalked out of the chamber.

            Kel returned his attention upon the group. "Enough interruptions!" he said, stepping closer to them, "We will go straight to business. Where is the Elf that we have requested?"

            Frowns immediately appeared on all four faces that were Elven. "Do not speak so lightly of our race, as if we were mere _things_ to you," Legolas growled. He fixed his eyes, now a chilling blue, upon the Man.

            For a moment, Kel was taken aback by the fierceness in those eyes. They were more dangerous than Tiruc's crazed ones, for this Elf was calm and sane as anyone present. And, it was in those eyes that he saw the Elfling, and knew without a doubt that this was the child's father.

            Kel regained his composure and airily waved his hand in dismissal. "I will ask again," he said, "Where is the Elf?"

            "Not until we are able to see the Elfling," Aragorn answered, calmly.

            Their captor laughed nastily. "And why should I take orders from you?" he demanded, unkindly, "You are nothing but a Ranger; an old and dated one, I might add." He laughed again and was joined by his men.

            Aragorn shared a look with his friends, suppressing his grin. The idiots did not recognize him as their king; this could definitely work to their advantage!

            Aloud, Aragorn said, "A Ranger I may be, but until our request is granted, the identity of the Elf you desire will remain secret."

            Kel raised a questioning brow. "I could always torture you," he threatened.

            At this, Aragorn smiled. "Ah, but what good will it do if your torture leads to our deaths? We have been through more horrible things than you can imagine and have been made stronger for it," he answered, "We are the only ones who know the identity of the Elf and you shall receive our deaths upon your head before we reveal our secret."

            "You lie!" Kel hissed.

            "Perhaps," Aragorn murmured, "But, I do not think you are willing to take that chance….are you?" He pleasantly smiled, as if their conversation was merely about the weather. "Surely you have noticed that the time of the Elves has passed and more and more leave for the lands of their people. After us, there will be no more Elves to torture information from."

            The decision weighed heavily upon the advisor, insomuch that it took him several long moments to process it. Finally, with a sneer, he ordered one of the guards to fetch the child from the dungeons.

            Erundil sat content upon his rickety bench, his blue eyes focused upon the mouse that wandered freely through his cell. He smiled as he watched the furry creature sniff around the grimy floor, its tiny nose twitching and scrunched with each breath. A giggle escaped him as he tried to imitate the mouse with a nose twitch of his own.

            Taking a small piece of day old bread that had been given to him this morning as breakfast, Erundil quietly hopped down from his bench. His grin grew broader when the mouse did not scurry away from his movement. _Ada__ would be very proud! He thought. He silently crept closer, crouching slightly with each step. Finally, he was a mere arm's length away and held out the bread as an offering._

            The mouse immediately went on guard and froze. Its tiny nose twitched in anticipation, then in curiosity when it caught the scent of the bread. Cautiously, its head leaned forward, inspecting the offering.

            A loud noise suddenly echoed through the dungeons, startling the occupants within. Erundil frowned when the mouse scurried away, frightened. He threw the bread towards a corner, then straightened up. From in between the bars he could see a lone guard stalking through the dungeon, the scowl evident on his dirty face. The Elfling watched as the guard continued down the walkway, then stop abruptly at his cell. A ring of keys were produced and used to unlock the cell door. The guard stepped inside and pointed a finger at the child. "Come!" he barked.

            Erundil, who had not yet mastered the language of Westron, turned curious eyes to him. From behind the guard, one of the Men in the cell across from him was mouthing something to him, accompanied with various hand motions.

            Seth, one of the King's oldest members of the cabinet, pointed to Erundil. "You," he mouthed, "Go." He formed his index and middle fingers into a V shape and pointed them downwards into the palm of his other hand; he made a walking motion. "With him!" He pointed at the guard.

            Erundil nodded, even as the guard whirled around to face Seth. "What are you telling him?" the guard growled.

            Seth glared at him. "He doesn't understand you, fool!" he answered, motioning to Erundil, "How do you expect him to follow your orders when he cannot understand?"

            The guard muttered something obscene, then turned back to the waiting child. He stepped forward and grabbed Erundil roughly by the arm, and all put dragged him out of the cell. Seth saw the now frightened look upon the child's face and cursed at the guard. "He'll go willingly, you idiot!" he yelled, "Let him go and he'll follow you!"

            The guard released Erundil's arm and in the same moment lunged for Seth in between the bars. "I grow tired of your name calling, old man!" he yelled, the frustration and irritation written all over his face, "You would do well to remember who is in charge here!"

            Seth smirked from the safety of the farthest wall. "As long as idiots like you and that bastard Kel are in charge," he told the younger man, "I'm afraid the name calling will never cease." He boldly winked at Erundil, who merely smiled. Though the child could not understand the exchange, he knew enough by the men's body language and displays of emotions.

            With a growl of anger, the guard reached for his keys. But, before he could find the appropriate one, another guard came rushing in. "What are you doing?" he demanded, irritated, "Lord Kel is waiting; impatiently, too, I might add!" He yanked at his comrade's arm.

            Reluctantly, the first guard put his keys away. "This is not over, old man!" he growled at Seth. To Erundil, he lifted his arm and forcibly pointed towards the exit. "GO!" he barked.

            Erundil shrugged, then began to walk. He turned at the last second to wave good-bye to Seth. He quietly giggled when he heard the guard snarl in frustration.

            The journey from the dungeons to the main floor of the stronghold did not take very long; at least not in Erundil's estimation. It was faster now that he knew where he was going and what to expect. The day the guards had brought him down into his cell, Erundil had marveled at what seemed like thousands and thousands of steps that he'd had to take; now it seemed like less than a hundred as he climbed the spiraled staircase towards the surface. And the stairway did not seem as dark as before, even with the many torches that lined the solid rock walls.

            The door that led to the main floor did not look intimidating either; even as the guard unlocked the set of large devices that sealed it tight, it appeared as any other door might to a young child.

            Nothing seemed scary anymore, not when Erundil thought of it now. Of course, he had been afraid when he'd first arrived in Yelren; being kidnapped by wild-looking Men could do that, he supposed. But now, after being here for weeks now, it wasn't so bad. The Men that had also been imprisoned (he still had not found out why they were down in the dungeons) were very nice Men who seemed very concerned about him. They were even trying to help him understand Westron, which made the time in their dreary cells pass faster.

            _Atara__ will be pleased, I suppose_, he thought_, _grinning slightly,_ Learning another language while being held captive should count for something!_

            His thoughts were interrupted when his eyes beheld the sight that awaited him in the king's court. There, surrounded by the many wild-looking Men who had kidnapped him, was his father and his uncles. There was also a Dwarf and a Man that looked similar to the Men of Yelren, but his countenance seemed kinder. Erundil wondered at it for a moment, then turned his eyes back to his father. As if not believing that he really stood there, Erundil blinked. "_Ada__?_" he said, uncertainly.

            The older Elf crouched on his haunches, even as a grin broke out onto his face, its familiarity stunning the child. Erundil recognized that grin; it was the special grin his father reserved for him alone, and he had seen it so many times, there was no denying it or his father.

            "_Ada__!_" the child exclaimed, returning the grin. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him and went flying into his father's chest.

           Legolas felt the tears of joy sting the corners of his eyes. He could feel his son's arms clasped tightly around his neck, felt his face buried into the crook of his neck. He felt his heart burst with happiness long suppressed and allowed one tiny sob to escape him. He wanted more than anything to hold his son, but his bonds prevented him from that one simple pleasure.

            Erundil stepped back and placed both hands on his father's cheeks. _"You are here!"_ he exclaimed, happily, _"I have missed you, ada!"_

            Legolas smiled at him. _"Not as much as I have missed you, son!"_ he told him, _"Are you alright? They have not hurt you, have they?"_ His eyes quickly scanned over the little one's body until he was satisfied that he was in no way injured.

            _"I am fine, ada!"_ Erundil giggled, _"The Men in the dungeons have been very nice to me."_

            _"Men in the dungeon?"_ Legolas questioned, _"What Men do you speak of, Erundil?"_ He looked curiously at his son.

            The young Elf shrugged. _"They were put in the dungeons the same day I arrived,"_ he answered, _"I do not know why they are down there."_

            Before anything else could be said, Kel stepped forward and pulled Erundil away. "You have seen the Elfling!" he announced, the hard gleam in his eyes returning, "Now tell us what we desire!"

            Legolas watched as his son was handed to the guard that had brought him in, watched as Erundil's eyes filled with tears. He felt the anger grip his heart tightly, felt his eyes narrow to angry slits. He got to his feet and opened his mouth with the intent to tell these Men to go straight to the depths of Mordor, but was interrupted by the shake of Aragorn's head. He saw the wisdom and concern in his friend's eyes, saw the experience he had and trusted, and therefore bit his tongue back from throwing out the insults these Men deserved.

            He was further saved by the arrival of more guards, who stormed into the chambers. The leader stopped before Kel and quickly kneeled. "Milord, more Elves!" he announced, excitably.

            Legolas swore as his friends frowned with disappointment. They had hoped Ziendriel had been able to escape, but with this new development, they knew it not to be so. With heavy hearts, they watched as Ziendriel and Adrianna were led into the room, unbound, surrounded by a number of guards.

            The atmosphere inside the chamber immediately lightened at the arrival of the Elven maids, which dissipated the tension. All eyes were upon the two new captives, some in awe, others in undisguised lust. The sudden bombardment of unchaste thoughts of these ladies reached the minds of the four Elven lords, causing their eyes to widen in surprise at such boldness.

            Ziendriel stopped a few feet away from Kel and gracefully curtsied. "Milord, I am Ziendriel, Princess of Mirkwood," she introduced, "And, I believe I have what you seek."


	22. Chapter 21: Distressing Situations

**A/N: **I have been having a great deal of trouble trying to post my chapters here at the site, so hopefully, this one will work. Also, thanks to a major screw up from my DSL provider, I no longer have DSL and am at the mercy of dial-up, which does not play well with my computer. I am also in the midst of buying a home, as well as packing, so I don't know when the rest of the chapters will be up (granted, my computer decideds to be nice!). But, here is the next chapter and hopefully, I will be able to post the others if this one works.

**Chapter 21**

Elladan urged his horse faster, gripping the animal's mane tightly in his hands as it flew across the plains of Middle-Earth. With a graceful turn of his head, he was able to catch sight of his twin several leagues behind him. "Elrohir! If you can't keep up, I suggest you return home!" he yelled.

His twin made a very rude gesture to him, his glaring eyes making Elladan smirk. "You still have not told me what this is about, Elladan!" the younger of the twins shot back.

At this, the frown on Elladan's handsome face returned. Unconsciously, his head turned back to the land before him, his dark eyes troubled. He regretted not being able to tell his brother the reason for this sudden flight from Rivendell, but it had been through the utmost urgency that he and Elrohir now raced through the lands between the Last Homely House and the land of Gondor.…

**FLASHBACK**

_Elladan_ _sat on the balcony of his room, his eyes staring out into the dim light of the evening. His heart was heavy, as was his spirit, for his Father was no farther from his depression than the previous day. He was worried about Father and knew Elrohir was, too; his twin had taken to long walks among the trees of their home, disappearing for hours on end. He felt helpless and unsure about what to do, emotions that he had not felt since his childhood._

_A small breeze whipped all around him, tickling his skin. For a moment he reveled in the sensation of air across his face, closing his eyes to savor the moment. Then, as if an alarm had sounded, Elladan felt eyes upon him, boring intently upon his back._

_Quickly drawing his dagger from its sheath, Elladan spun on his heel, his body tense and ready…_

"_Ziendriel?!" he exclaimed in disbelief._

_The figure that stood in the midst of his room held the face of his sister, much to his bewilderment. His mind told him that this was not her, that she was now deep within the land of Gondor, searching for her son. Yet, his heart gazed upon her and said that it _was _she that stood before him._

_She smiled softly at him. "Hello, Elladan," she greeted._

_He gaped at her. "How…?" he managed to croak._

_She shook her head. "I will explain later, brother," she answered, "But, now you must listen to me. I need your help."_

_Still stunned, Elladan moved towards the door. "I will get Father," he said, but stopped when she saw Ziendriel shake her head once more._

"_There is no time, Elladan!" she said, urgently, "_I _have no time! Erundil and Legolas are depending on me; you must listen!"_

_Struck by her desperation, Elladan nodded and turned attentively towards her. Encouraged by his actions, Ziendriel continued. "You must go to Minas Tirith and tell Arwen that I have appeared to you. Tell her that unless she allows the King's Elite to accompany you to Yelren, her deepest fear will come to pass."_

"_Deepest fear?" Elladan repeated, "I don't-"_

"_Elladan!" a voice interrupted, even as the door to his bedroom burst open, distracting him. Elrohir strolled into the room, unaware of his interruption._

"_What?" he snapped._

_Elrohir looked mildly surprised. "Who are you talking to?" he demanded._

_Elladan frowned. "Why, to Zi-" He stopped abruptly when he turned back and found his room empty._

**END FLASHBACK**

Interestingly enough, it had been easier for him to go to his father and tell him that Ziendriel had appeared to him. Elrohir would be, no doubt, convinced his brother's apparent hallucination was being driven by grief and despair, but Elrond had listened calmly as Elladan repeated Ziendriel's message. It had surprised him even further when his father had urged him to follow through with the maid's request.

The very same day, he and Elrohir had departed from Imladris, taking the fastest horses their father's stables had to offer. Eyes had turned curiously at the pair as they had raced past the handful of the land's inhabitants, for none, save Lord Elrond and Elladan, knew the true reason for the twins' urgency.

"Elladan!" Elrohir was now yelling to him. His steed had closed the distance between them, and was but a few feet behind his brother. "Would it be impossible for you to slow down and tell me what is going on?" he demanded, his eyes ablaze.

Sighing, Elladan considerably slowed, allowing his brother to pull up along side him. "What would you have me tell you, brother?" he asked, their horses now at a comfortable gallop.

Elrohir grinned. "For one thing," he answered, "why are we riding as if the Evil One himself gives chase; and second, where exactly are we going?"

"To Gondor," Elladan replied, "More importantly, to our sister in Minas Tirith."

Wide eyes met his. "Arwen?" he repeated, "For what reason?" At his brother's amused glance, he hastily added, "I do not mind seeing our fair sister, do not misunderstand me. But there has never been this level of urgency before."

Elladan sighed once again. "I would tell you," he told him, "But, it is my fear of your disbelief that prevents me from doing so."

"Tell me!" Elrohir demanded.

As he had done with his father, Elladan told his puzzling story of how he came to receive an urgent message from their foster sister, whom they both knew was most likely deep within the lands of Yelren, far from their home. With a wary eye set upon his brother, Elladan repeated what he knew, then silently waited.

For the longest moment, Elrohir sat upon his horse, his head bowed as he contemplated what he'd just been told. Elladan could feel the apprehension rise in his throat, even as the seconds ticked by in silence.

Then, as if the galloping motion of his steed had suddenly awaken him, Elrohir turned to his brother, grinning that trouble-filled smile of his. "Well, why didn't you say so in the first place?" he said, then urged his horse to go faster. The animal took off like a shot, its master's laughter drifting behind on the air.

******************************************************************************

Like many days before, Lord Elrond stood upon the private balcony of his study, peering out onto the land stretched out before him. His frown had deepened the lines within his wizened face, even as his thoughts reflected upon the events that now plagued his family.

His heart had been lifted somewhat when he had heard of Elladan's tale of his interaction with Ziendriel; he now knew that she was still alive, and, at the moment, well. He would have to send word to Thranduil to share the news, knowing the king and his family would receive this with joy.

But, that task was pushed to the back of his mind, for another thought now consumed him: Ziendriel's appearance. He knew that once aware of the powers that inhabited her being, there would no doubt be many manifestations of it. But, it truly amazed him that she had been able to project herself from such a great distance and within such a short time, too. The journal of the sorceress was obviously becoming a great help to the princess, but he had not expected her to accomplish the level of her powers this soon.

"Elladan said that Ziendriel needed his help," Elrond now murmured to himself, "I wonder what she has in store for the Men of Yelren?"

******************************************************************************

Aegnor, Last of the Dragons, slumbered peacefully within his cave, his mind at rest and his stomach full. He had happened upon a small herd of deer that had wandered too far into the forest, and had hungrily helped himself to their meat. It had been a glorious meal, the kind that he had not enjoyed for many, many years. It had done his body well to consume these animals, for the nutrients within them were needed and greatly appreciated.

And so was the reason of his slumber. He had been asleep for two days now, and if no one else dared to disturb his home, he would slumber for several more. He looked forward to his rest, for it renewed his health of both body and mind.

"Aegnor," A soft voice drifted along the currents of the pond and into the cave the giant beast now rested in. The pool within the cave rippled softly, slightly glowing. "Aegnor," the voice called once more.

Grumpily, Aegnor opened one eye and peered around. There was no one around, but he did notice the light illuminating the pool of water that led outside. Curiously, the dragon slowly got to his feet, his eyes concentrated on the light. He made to move forward, but abruptly stopped when he heard his name upon the air. "Aegnor," it beckoned.

"Show yourself!" he commanded, the fury evident in his voice. Never in all the time he had resided here, had anyone dared to invade his home!

The light from the pool gathered together, then rose into the air. He watched as it slowly levitated towards him, then slowly grow bigger and brighter. It grew until the entire cave was filled with its light, causing the dragon to shield its eyes with one massive wing.

When the light abated, Aegnor turned and opened his eyes. "Princess!" he exclaimed, immediately bending down upon one knee.

Ziendriel smiled, soft laughter emitting from her illuminated form. "Hello, my friend," she greeted, "Rise, for I thought friends such as we were above such formality?"

"Forgive me, milady," Aegnor apologized, though the puzzlement remained in his voice, "I am just shocked to see you."

Again, she laughed. "You are not the only one, Aegnor," she answered, "I, myself, am surprised at this new power. But, I digress." He shook her head slightly. "I need your help, my friend," she added, solemnly.

The dragon stared at her, his mind still digesting the reality of what was happening. The princess was here, but at the same time, she was not. How was that possible? Was he dreaming?

A kind smile rose to Ziendriel's lips. "No, you are not dreaming, Aegnor," she told him softly, "Nor are you hallucinating. I am here with you now, though I do not know how it is possible."

"I am simply amazed, milady," Aegnor said, his voice full of awe and wonder. He continued to stare at her.

Ziendriel smiled. "Will you help me?" she asked, "I fear I do not have very much time left"

Aegnor once again bowed. "I am here to serve you, Ziendriel, Princess of Mirkwood," he said with some flourish, "You need only ask."

She giggled, then stepped forward to bring him closer that he might hear of what aid he could give.

******************************************************************************

Adrianna stared down at the slumbering form that lay upon the room's only bed, the worry creasing her lovely face. For the third day in a row since turning themselves into the custody of the Men of Yelren, she had found her mistress unconscious in their assigned bedchamber.

As always, Adrianna had left the room at the princess' request, only to return an hour later to find her mistress exhausted and lying on the floor. The panic was now replaced with heartsick worry as the handmaiden carefully laid her mistress upon the soft bed. She did not know what to do; Ziendriel was the Healer, not her. What was she supposed to do now?

"It is the separation from Legolas and Erundil, no doubt," Adrianna now murmured as she pressed a cool cloth to Ziendriel's forehead, "She is trying to be brave, but I've heard her muffled cries at night. She can't help but be worried about them, too."

The scene from the day they walked into Yelren's court replayed fresh in her mind, even as she cared for her mistress…

**FLASHBACK**

"_I am Ziendriel, Princess of Mirkwood," Ziendriel was addressing the court, "And I believe I have what you seek."_

_Legolas leapt forward, but was stopped by several guards. "Ziendriel!" he called, almost furiously, "Melamin, what are you doing?"_

_Kel, whose eyes never left the Elf maidens before him, snapped, "Quiet him!" He heard a distinct thud, then a muffled groan. He gestured to the Elves. "And, what is it that you believe I seek?" he asked._

_Ziendriel politely smiled, but her green eyes were as cold as ice. "The power of Aìnu," she answered, "It is, after all, what you demanded when you insulted the Lord of Rivendell after he denied it to you….is it not?" Her chin raised defiantly._

_If she had not been so beautiful, Kel surely would have cut off her head for such insolence. Instead, he smiled at her. "And, what is it that you think you know about this?" he asked._

"_I know the identity of the Elf you seek," Ziendriel simply answered._

_With the glee almost evident in his eyes, as well as his voice, Kel stared at the beautiful maiden before him. "Do you now?" he asked, struggling to keep his voice calm and even. When she nodded, a broad grin formed upon his face, then just as abruptly disappeared. "And why would you come so willingly to me?" he demanded, suspiciously._

"_In return for my information, I ask that your captives be released," she answered, gesturing to Legolas and the others, "All except the child; he will remain with me."_

"_And, why is that?" Kel asked._

_A delicate eyebrow arched. "Surely you have guessed it by now?" Ziendriel asked, smugly. When the Man stared blankly at her, she rolled her eyes. "The child is whom you seek, but he does not yet know of the power he holds," she explained, patiently, as if a small child stood before her, "I will stay with the child and tutor him, as long as the others are allowed to go free."_

_Legolas gaped in shock. "Ziendriel!" he shouted, "What-" His sentence was left unfinished as one of the guards once again delivered a sound punch to his midsection._

_Unperturbed, Kel paused in his actions to ponder the offer before him. It was not long before he nodded his head in agreement._

**END FLASHBACK**

Adrianna shook her head as the memories died away. She did not know why her mistress had done what she'd done, but she was now considering the princess to be somewhat rash and foolhardy. After Kel had agreed to Ziendriel's terms, the others had been set free, but they had refused to leave without Ziendriel and Erundil. A great shouting match had ensued between the Prince and Princess, only to end when Ziendriel finally gave a scream of frustration.

**FLASHBACK**

"_The Prince refuses to leave," Ziendriel explained to a bewildered Kel, "Despite my objections, he promises to return with a great army if he is allowed to return home empty-handed." Her eyes returned to her husband, returning the furious glare he gave her. They stared at one another, each refusing to blink or look away as their silent war of words commenced._

_Erundil looked from one parent to the other, not quite understanding the situation and immediately not liking it. His angelic face creased with worry._

"_I think our agreement is fair, but he thinks otherwise Therefore, I ask that you keep him and his companions here also…for the time being," Ziendriel added, clearly exasperated, "Unharmed; do we agree?"_

_Kel_ _allowed himself a smirk before nodding. "Very well," he agreed, "Guards! Take the Elves to the dungeons!" At Ziendriel obvious move to protest, he added, "They cannot very well be allowed to roam free, milady. There is no telling what harm could come to me…or them if allowed."_

_Ziendriel_ _immediately closed her mouth at the veiled threat. Her eyes flashed dangerously as she stared hard at the arrogance before her._

_Legolas_ _put up a mighty struggle as they were ordered into the dungeons. He did not voice his fury, but kept his eyes focused on his wife. Her eyes immediately softened as she looked upon him, the sadness on her face evident for just a moment._

**END FLASHBACK**

And now, here they all were, trapped within the crumbling fortress of Yelren, miserable and unhappy. In true form, Lord Kel had ultimately decided that Erundil be returned to the dungeons, infuriating Ziendriel. The events of the kidnapping were still upon his mind and he obviously thought the child would be more subdued among the company of his sire. Adding to all of that, her mistress seemed to be fall ill quite often now, worrying the handmaiden more than she would like.

"A-Adrianna?" a hoarse voice called from the bed.

She broke away from her thoughts and focused on the tired, but lovely face of the princess. She rushed over to her, tears of relief welling up in her eyes. "Oh, milady!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands, "You are frightening me! Tell me what to do in preventing these ills that befall you and I will gladly do it!"

Ziendriel weakly smiled. "I apologize, Adrianna," she whispered, "I do not mean to do this. Visions and dreams have been haunting me of late, and inexperienced as I am, I have no energy when they claim me. Please forgive me."

Adrianna smiled and opened her mouth to reply, but was abruptly stopped when the door to the bedchamber exploded open, violently swinging on its hinges. Through the cloud of dust that filled the doorway, a tall, broad figure stalked into the room, stopping mere inches from the foot of the bed.

Tiruc stared hard at Adrianna, the wildness in his dark eyes sending icy chills of fear down her spine. She nearly leapt out of her skin when he barked, "Out!"

Though terrified, Adrianna tried her best to look appalled. "I will not!" she answered, her voice trembling, "My mistress is not well and I-"

Tiruc growled. "I said OUT!" he yelled, taking a menacing step forward.

Throwing an apologetic look at Ziendriel, Adrianna gathered up the hem of her dress and fled as fast as she could. The princess, however, sighed and struggled into a sitting position.

To her surprise, Tiruc was by her side in a moment, his hands reaching out to assist her. Seeing the unabashed lust swimming within his eyes, Ziendriel recoiled at his touch.

"I wish you would not do that," he told her, his voice deep and low, "I will not hurt you."

She stared defiantly at him. "I do not wish for you to touch me," she told him, coldly, "You do not have that right." She finally got herself into a sitting position and folded her arms across her chest.

_She looks lovely,_ Tiruc suddenly thought. He stared at her a moment longer, his eyes taking her in hungrily. She was the same as the day he had first seen her, beautiful and defiant, ready to face any challenge. His heart leapt in his chest at the sight of her, and he felt the all too familiar tightening in his groin return.

"I would not say such things if I were you," he told her, pleasantly, as if they were old acquaintances, "They do not reflect well on you, and I am, after all, your host."

She gave an unladylike snort of disbelief. "You are everything but a host," she shot back, her eyes aflame, "If anything, that is the only decent word I am able to think of to describe you!"

Tiruc dared to sit beside her on the bed, his eyes somewhat glazed over when she looked at him. "You are very lovely when you are angry," he whispered, his fingertips brushing her cheek. He mistook her shudder of revulsion as an invitation and leaned in to kiss her.

Ziendriel reacted fast, pulling away even as her hands slapped his away. "I demand you leave at once!" she shouted, the disgust evident upon her face.

At this, Tiruc snapped. He grabbed her roughly round her upper arms and pressed closer to her. "You are in no position to demand anything, Princess!" he shot back, the wild light returning to his eyes, "It is I, who should be demanding things from you!"

Ziendriel struggled against him, revolted at the way his body radiated heat upon her. She could feel his breath upon her face, disgusted that he was so near. "You may demand to your heart's content," she told him, coldly, though she could feel the first stirrings of fear in her stomach, "But, I will NEVER obey you!"

He slightly shook her, as if doing so would make her see his perspective. "Why do you deny what is between us?" he demanded, frustration in his voice, "You are the maiden I did not realize I needed. You are what my heart craves, nay, requires to function. You must see it; you must acknowledge it!"

To any other maiden, these words of love declared would have had them swooning. But, to Ziendriel, they were nothing more than the ramblings of an obsessed man. "My heart belongs to another," she answered, "And to him it always will. And there is nothing that can change that!"

"Your prince sits in a dungeon, fading each day," Tiruc sneered, his hold tightening on her, "He pines for you, worries that he will not see you again. He has accepted his fate; it is time for you to do the same!" He threw her roughly across the bed and immediately pinned her body with his. "I will make you see!" he growled, tearing at her dress.

Too weak from the vision that had plagued her earlier, Ziendriel struggled to fight back, but to no avail. She felt his hands all over her body, rough and violent, tearing and pulling at her clothes. The fear exploded in her body, sending a wave of panic over her. "NO!" she screamed, even as his mouth came down upon her neck, even as the evidence of his desire pressed against her thigh. She pulled at his hair and clawed at his face, but nothing seemed to deter him.

Tears began to fall as she felt the last of her clothing being torn away from her and she gasped at the cool air against her bare skin. "Please, do not do this!" she whimpered, pounding her fists against his face and shoulders, "I will be dead by morning if you do!"

Tiruc laughed harshly, the knowledge of something so pure as an Elf being defiled resulting in death lost upon him. "Do not speak lies, princess!" he spat, the light of reason no longer evident in his eyes, "For it is in my experience that your people are gifted with that art!"

Ziendriel shook her head wildly, her sobs growing louder by the second. She closed her eyes as he launched another assault with his mouth upon her, when she heard the door to the bedchambers open once more.

"TIRUC!" Kel screamed, fury in his eyes as he took in the scene before him. The Elf maiden was naked, her gown in pieces on the floor, her body pinned under his soldier's body, her arms held roughly above her head. She was sobbing uncontrollably, unnoticed by the man determined to claim her in the most barbaric way.

A group of soldiers swarmed upon the man, roughly pulling him away from his victim. Tiruc struggled mightily, but was finally subdued by seven large men. Adrianna rushed to her mistress' side, covering her with the bedcovers, and cradled her within her arms.

"Forgive me, milady," she whispered to the shaken Elf, "I should have been here…I should have-" She abruptly stopped once she felt her own tears sliding down her cheeks.

Ziendriel said nothing, but continued to sob, her face buried within her friend's neck. She did not see Tiruc being dragged from the room, his face purple with fury; nor did she hear Kel's rampant stream of apologizes as his men cleared the room. Ziendiel did not acknowledge this, for in her mind, one single thought repeated itself, over and over again in her mind:

_It ends tonight!_


	23. Chapter 22: Freedom Approaches

**A/N:** I can't remember if I mentioned this, but anything in italics is being spoken in Elvish, unless it's for emphasis. If I already mentioned, sorry!

**Chapter 22**

Ziendriel stared at the food placed before her, then quickly pushed it away with a frown. She did not feel hungry and had not since the incident with Tiruc earlier. She shivered as the images pushed their way to the forefront of her mind, attacking her with abandon. She felt the bile rise up in her throat and took a quick sip of wine.

Adrianna noticed her mistress' actions and frowned. "Princess, you must eat," she murmured, worriedly.

"I cannot," Ziendriel murmured back, "I have no stomach for it." She pressed a hand to her midsection and grimaced.

All of this was not lost on Kel, even though he sat at the opposite end of the table. "Everything alright, milady?" he called to them.

Adrianna shot him a look of pure disbelief, even as Ziendriel frowned. "Everything is just wonderful, thank you!" the handmaiden called back, every word dripping with sarcasm. Ziendriel nearly giggled when the bastard looked most displeased. "Honestly!" Adrianna muttered, shaking her head ever so slightly.

Ziendriel just smiled, but said nothing. Her mind was not focused on the meal, but on various other things, causing her to tune out the noises all around her. With a glance here and there, she took in her surroundings, taking notes within her mind. Truth be told, she was tired of seeing the walls of Yelren, tired of being surrounded by traitorous Men such as those that now dined at the same table. It had only been three days since her arrival, but she could not wait until she could flee.

Raising her eyes from her plate, she caught the eyes of the soldier that sat across her. He was openly staring at her, his mouth absently chewing the food that hung from his lips. His dark eyes bore into hers; causing her mind to recall a similar pair belonging to a Man she would not touch with the longest stick to ever be found. Ziendriel stared at him for a moment, then averted her eyes. His stare was very unnerving and completely inappropriate. Did these Men know no manners?

A frown marred her face once more. _They will soon enough!_ She thought, grimly.

******************************************************************************

Legolas paced the length of his cell, mumbling to himself. The look on his face was pure fury, and those who had accompanied him were now glad that they no longer shared a cell with him. The prince continued with his ramblings, his face turning darker and darker by the second, his hands clenching and unclenching as he did so.

From the cell next to him, Aragorn gave an exasperated sigh. "_Will you cease, Legolas?_" he demanded, though he found his friend's actions humorous, "_Pacing will accomplish nothing , save causing the weak floor to crumble and demolish your cell!"_

"_Good,"_ came the reply in a low growl, "_It will aid me in getting to my wife quicker so that I may wring her lovely neck!"_

From further down the block, Erundil turned puzzled eyes to his father. "_You are angry with Mother,"_ he said; it was not a question but a sharp observation from a child. He continued to stare at his father, until the latter flushed red and turned away.

From yet another cell, Gragoc guffawed with laughter. "_Yes, Legolas,"_ he teased, "_Tell the Elfling why you are so angry." _He grinned broadly.

The prince glared at his friend. "_Oh, do be quiet!"_ he growled.

******************************************************************************

Through the dark halls of Yelren's stronghold, three figures slowly made their way towards the front hall. Two of the figures, a tall and burly man and the other of stature lithe and grace, waited while the other stood before a large door, fumbling with the keys hooked securely to his belt. When the right key was procured, he immediately shoved the rusty metal into its equally rusted counterpart and turned the lock. A loud groan sounded from within the door, even as the guard wrenched the heavy door open and ushered his companions through.

The moment she stepped through the threshold, Ziendriel, Princess of Mirkwood, was overwhelmed by the darkness that immediately enveloped her. Her footsteps paused, causing the guard who held her arm so tightly, to also falter. He turned and looked at her, puzzled by her ceased movements.

"What is the matter?" he gruffly asked, though his voice held no annoyance. Truth be told, he would hold to the chance to stare at this beautiful creature, had the opportunity presented itself. It had been long since he had seen such loveliness in these lands; who was he to not appreciate it?

The Elf maiden did not reply, but instead glared at him. The intensity of such a look surprised the guard, for it held such fierceness, such fire; such levels he had not anticipated from a maiden, Elf or otherwise.

The guard averted his eyes and firmly tugged at her arm. Almost reluctantly, Ziendriel complied and allowed him to lead her down the long, steep stairway.

They soon reached the bottom of the staircase and entered a narrow hallway. Three doors occupied the dimly lit corridor: two at each end and one directly in the middle. Another guard sat sleeping near the latter door, his huge frame slumped over itself. Chuckling to themselves, Ziendriel's two escorts stalked over to their comrade and soundly punched him in the stomach.

The sleeping fellow was instantly awake, only to groan mightily. Ziendriel heard him hoarsely whisper something to his attackers, which only caused them to laugh more heartily. Their victim handed them a huge ring of keys, then went back to moaning as he curled up into a ball upon the hard floor.

The guards quickly opened the door and motioned Ziendriel through. Again, her eyes were greeted by darkness. Irritated, she turned to her escorts. "Can you not do something about the dim light?" she asked.

Scuffled footsteps could be heard as one of the guards moved into action. He went to each torch within the room and added more oil to their reserves. As expected, their flames began to burn brighter.

"Much better," Ziendriel murmured. Her eyes now took in the sight before her: two long rows of old cells, rusted and damp. Each held one prisoner, some young, others wiser, others….she grinned. Legolas stood in one of these cells, peering at her through the rusted bars. Gimli stood in the cell next to him, causing the pair's difference in height to stand out.

"_Atara!"_ a voice rang out, causing her smile to waver. To the very right of her, stood Erundil, alone in a cell.

She rushed towards him and grabbed his hands through the bars. "_Little one, are you alright?"_ she asked, her fingers delighting in the touch of her son's soft skin. She brought his palms closer, planting a soft kiss on each in turn.

Erundil grinned at her. "_I am fine, Mother,"_ he answered, "_But, my eyes have surely missed you!"_

Ziendriel laughed through watered eyes. She kissed his hands once more, then turned to the guards. "I wish to see my son," she told them.

The two Men glanced at one another. "You are, milady," one dumbly answered.

Ziendriel scoffed. "I was denied the chance to hold him even on the day I willfully surrendered to your men," she said, darkly, "You dare deny me again? He is but a child and I am his mother! Now open this cell!"

The guards once again exchanged looks, glancing warily at the Elven princess. She had done nothing to cause them to mistrust her, but they were not sure if they were authorized to grant such a request. Both were not learned in the wiles or antics of the Elves, and were more than apprehensive in allowing contact between two of them; despite the fact that one was a child.

Ziendriel saw their hesitation and felt her temper flare. "It is only for but a moment!" she argued, "Surely that will not matter?"

The first guard turned to his companion, who merely shrugged. "I suppose.." he said, slowly. He stepped forward and opened the cell door. "We will grant you a few moments….but nothing more!" he warned.

Ziendriel smirked openly at him before stepping inside the crumbling cell. Only when she heard the door lock behind her did she rush forward to catch her only child within her arms. "Oh, it has been far too long since I have had you in my arms!" she cried, swinging him high into the air.

Erundil's smile threatened to split his mouth, even as he shrieked with laughter.

"She is up to something," Legolas murmured to Gimli through the bars that shared their cells, "I can feel it." The two, along with every other prisoner, were watching the happy reunion taking place between mother and son. Ziendriel was now sitting upon the rickety bench in Erundil's cell, their son upon her lap, encircled tightly and safe within her arms.

Gimli chuckled softly. "Now, lad," he told him, "Have faith in your maid. It has been three days since she has seen you and your child, and a longer time than that since her arms have held him. Let her have this moment without your judgment."

Legolas shook his head. "It is not that," he answered, "There is something about her countenance, her posture. Ziendriel is my heart's other half; in being so, I _know_ her, Gimli. I know her with a soul's eyes. And something in the way she appears tells me something is amiss."

The Dwarf said nothing, but pondered his friend's words. His eyes wandered back to the two Elves enjoying one another's company, wondering at what his eyes could not see.

His reflections were interrupted when he saw Ziendriel jerk suddenly, startling the child. He heard Erundil call out for his mother, saw Legolas run to the other side of his cell, yelling for the guards. In mere seconds, the princess fell unconscious, slumped heavily against the cell wall as a vision enveloped her senses.

The guards came bursting through the main door, startled by such commotion. They took one look at the terrified Elfling and his unconscious mother and rushed forward. One guard fumbled with the keys, unnerved by his comrade's urging. Both were clearly unsettled by the turn of events, afraid of what consequences might befall them.

The door was finally opened and both rushed in. The cell door slammed against the bars, causing a dull ring to echo through the dungeon. It went unnoticed as the guards ushered Erundil to the side and reached for the princess.

And then, the most peculiar thing happened.

Legolas watched as the blundering fools moved closer to his wife, the fear evident on their faces. But, it was not long before his attention was drawn elsewhere. For in the moment that one of the Men touched Ziendriel, the giant club that hung at his side freed itself from the harness, rose up high into the air and came crashing down upon its owner skull. With a mighty yell, the Man fell to the grimy floor, rendered unconscious.

The second guard, a witness to the event, stopped abruptly in his tracks, his eyes glued to his fallen friend. If he hadn't been so shocked himself, Legolas would surely have laughed at the guard's expression.

The guard looked from his friend to the Elfling, confusion in his eyes. "H-How did y-you do…?" he stuttered, but only received a shaking head of denial from the child.

Ziendriel suddenly leapt up from the bench, alert and conscious. "Not him," she told him, "But, me."

"How…?" the poor guard asked.

She shrugged "Like this," she replied, raising her hand. It was glowing from her wrist to her fingertips, concentrating most of the energy into her palm. With a furrowed brow of concentration, she closed her fingers around the ball of light, then opened them quickly, even as she pushed the energy from her. The light flew through the air and connected with the Man's chest with enough energy to knock him into the wall behind him. His eyes rolled and promptly shut.

Without a word, Ziendriel grabbed Erundil by the arm and ushered him out. She had just bent down to retrieve the keys to the cells when the third guard came stampeding in.

"What the-" he began, his eyes falling to his unconscious friends. His wonderment turned to anger when he saw what had happened. "You!" he screamed at the Elves. He rushed towards her.

Ziendriel quickly stood and pushed her son behind her. With fierce concentration and effort, she stared at the guard that charged her. To anyone witnessing the display, it appeared she was simply trying to stare down her attacker. But, then it happened.

As if struck by some unseen force, the guard stumbled backwards, his hands madly gripping his head. He fell to his knees, yelling in pain, over and over again. Ziendriel took one step towards him, her body slightly trembling, but her gaze held firm. It was obvious she was behind this invisible attack on the guard's mind, but that it was also taking much energy from her.

Ziendriel closed her eyes, her face scrunched up in pain. Her teeth bit down into her bottom lip and small whimpers escaped her throat. The man was now curled up in his agony, his yells now hoarse. Then, with one long shudder, he fell silent.

Ziendriel opened her eyes and fell to her knees. Her chest was heaving and sweat covered her brow. Erundil rushed to her, hugging her silently. With words only a mother could give, she whispered the comfort he needed into his pointed ear. Her hands were beginning to glow again and she pressed them to her chest.

After a moment, she stood, bringing Erundil with her. She returned to her original task before the third guard's interruption and retrieved the keys. One by one, her companions and friends were released.

"_Meleth_, are you well?" Legolas demanded, as soon as he was freed. He gathered her within his arms and hugged her tightly. He felt a surge of relief relax her body.

"I am now," she told him.

Lorith and Gragoc walked over to the fallen Men of Yelren. "They are not…dead, are they?" Gragoc asked, giving one a small nudge with his foot.

Ziendriel weakly smiled. "No, just unconscious," she answered, "My powers are not strong enough for anything beyond that." At her husband's surprise, she sheepishly grinned. "What else could I have been doing with a 'book with no pictures'?" she teased, referring to the sorceress' journal.

"Impressive," Aragorn said, before Legolas could reply, "A delight after your pathetic attempts on moving my pipe after the warg incident." Ziendriel stuck her tongue out at him.

Jhad was frowning. "Why are we just standing here?" he demanded, "We should make our escape!" The others moved to follow him, but Ziendriel stood firm.

"We must free the king," she told them, referring to the Men still trapped within their cells, "If anyone is to stop Lords Kel and Tiruc, it should be him and his loyal men." She threw the keys to Aragorn, who immediately set about doing the task.

Ziendriel then turned to Jhad. "Adrianna is waiting for me in the main hall," she told him, "Lord Kel would not allow her to accompany me down here; he said it would not do to have all of our company together." She frowned. "He was right," she added.

Her guardian nodded. "We will return for her," he agreed, "But, I must ask, milady. Have you thought this entire plan through?"

She nodded, though grimly. "More times than I care to admit, Jhad," she answered, "There is a secret door to the left of the king's throne that leads to the underground tunnels of Yelren. Lord Kel told of them one evening while in a drunken stupor; I believe he was bragging about how he used them to escape the wrath of his father as a youth." She shook her head disgustedly at the memory. "As of late, they have not been used," she added, "Most have been forgotten, but I wager they are still usable. That is how we will escape."

"But, we cannot allow the King and his Men to do battle by themselves!" Aragorn said, returning from his task, "They are but a small number, your Highness."

It was true; only a dozen or more Men stood behind their king. But Ziendriel shook her head. "They will have help," she replied. She stepped around Aragorn and stopped a few feet away from the newly freed monarch. "King Narìn," she addressed him, curtseying, "It is because of me that you have been mistreated and overthrown. But in your wisdom, you have taught my son kindness through these dark hours. For repayment of that kindness and for the mistreatment of your men, I now offer you the chance to redeem your great country. Will you accept my offer?"

Without a second thought, Narìn, son of the kings of Yelren, stepped forward and bent down on one knee. "You have my word, milady," he answered.

She smiled her approval. "You will not be alone in this fight, Your Highness," she promised. Then, without further explanation, she motioned everyone to follow her.

She led them to the armory located at the end of the hall and unlocked the door with the keys from the guard. Among the old, unused and useless weapons of Yelren, was the king's sword, his men's weapons, and the weapons of several Elves, a Dwarf and the mighty sword of the King of the United Free Lands.

King Narìn noticed the hilt of the last weapon and felt his body tremble. He recognized the symbol at once and fell to his knees. "Milord!" he gasped, his eyes quickly averted to the ground.

His men saw this and immediately followed suit, some murmuring with awe and wonder. Long had they thought their kingdom to be ignored by one so great, yet here he now stood, among them.

Aragorn clapped the shoulder of the king and helped him to his feet. "As Lady Ziendriel has promised," he told him, "your fight will be aided." He then bowed his head in humility. "Though I now beg of you to forgive me for my apparent negligence to your kingdom. I have proven that I have much yet to learn from those born into such stations."

Everyone held their breaths, for would the King of Yelren so easily forgive? For many, many years, Yelren had been overlooked, ignored during their time of decaying. One could not expect the king to forget that.

All was put at ease when King Narìn smiled broadly and clasped his lord's arm. The briefest of looks were exchanged. No words were needed.

They climbed the great staircase and reached the rusting door to the main hall in record time. Taking the keys from Aragorn, Ziendriel opened the door and peered out. "The guards are changed every hour, upon the hour," she told them, reciting the information she had long been collecting, "Two patrol this hall, while four more walk the two that adjoin to this one. The hall is easy enough to cross, but all the same, we should do so in small groups."

Legolas and the others stared at her, their expressions of mixture of surprise and admiration. She rolled her eyes. "I did pay attention to my lessons!" she protested. She turned back to the hall, then back to them. "I will take Erundil," she added, "But, I will also take two Men, as not to raise any suspicion outright."

King Narìn tapped the shoulders of the two men nearest to him. "Accompany the lady across the hall," he ordered them. They willingly obeyed.

The small group ventured out into the hall, the two Elves flanked by the Men. Quietly, but quickly they crossed the floor, entering the empty throne room. They met Adrianna there; she was nervously wringing her hands as she waited within the shadows.

"Milady!" she called softly, but urgently. She strode quickly to her mistress, relief upon her face. She was delighted to see the young prince beside her. "The others?" she questioned.

Ziendriel smiled. "They are coming," she answered, just as Legolas and Gimli arrived with two more Men. At her handmaiden's troubled gaze at the Men, she added, "These are King Narìn's faithful Men, imprisoned alongside him at the hands of Lord Kel. They are to have our trust."

Little by little, their numbers grew, until at last Aragorn arrived with the king and the last of his men. Ziendriel opened her mouth to next advise the group, but was interrupted.

A cold, chilling voice ripped through the room, rooting them all to the floor:

"My, my; what have we here?"

**A/N:** Okay, okay. Yes, this took forever. Believe me, _I know!_ But, here's a new chapter, so that has to count for something, right? *praying and hoping*


	24. Chapter 23: It Begins

**A/N:** Yes, I totally suck and wouldn't be surprised if no one reads this. But, I truly am trying! I have an outline of the final chapters; all I have to do is write them, then have them beta'd. It's taken awhile, I know; I'm so sorry about that!

Also, I have to explain that I took a creative liberty and created an army for the King of Gondor. It will obviously be explained in this chapter. Hope you enjoy it!

**Chapter 23**

Elladan stared out into the night, his mind contemplating the situation before him. At the moment, he sat in the company of two thousand Men, all seasoned in the art and machinations of war, quietly surrounding the dilapidated stronghold of the once great land of Yelren. The moon shone brightly across the land, bathing it in an eerie glow of silver, which did nothing to improve its sorry state.

"What are we waiting for?" Elrohir muttered to his brother, even as his hands tightly gripped the reins of his steed. The horse, sensing its rider's impatience, began to lightly shuffle.

"This situation is most serious, brother," Elladan returned, "We cannot just run against these Men haphazardly. Remember who it is we are here for."

At the mention of his adopted sister and her son, Elrohir sobered. "It is because of them that I am impatient!" he admitted, lowly, "It worries me, these conditions in which our sister finds herself; I can see now why Father was so troubled when the news arrived."

Elladan merely nodded. "Very troubling indeed," he agreed. His gaze returned to the crumbling building in the distance. It was highly doubtful that the Men of Yelren had enough of an army to go against Gondor's finest, but if there was anything he had learned over the many, many years of battle, it was to never underestimate the race of Men.

Sensing his thoughts, Elrohir snorted in disbelief. "They cannot stand against us, brother," he assured him, "Much less the King's Elite." He motioned to the Men they numbered among, with a slight inclination of his head. The Men mentioned were that of the highest quality of warrior in service to the King of Gondor. Truth be told, these Men were the best of the best Gondor had to offer, and as such, were trained to be so. It was a great honor—nay, the greatest honor—a Man could be bestowed with.

But, despite this, Elladan still worried. A frown, so much like his father's, found its way among his face, marring the beauty of the Elven warrior. "We must proceed with caution, nonetheless," he said, stubbornly, "I am sure Legolas would agree with me, had he been numbered with us."

"Oh, I agree," Elrohir answered, much to the surprise of his brother, "Had it been _anyone _else," he added, slyly, "But, this is Ziendriel we speak of; his wife, his heart; and, their son. I believe I can be so bold as to say that I _know_ he would have thrown caution to the wind!"

Elladan opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the captain. "We are to move in within the hour," he announced to the twins, his face grim, "Our scouts have been dispatched and will report back in a moment's time. Be ready," he added, before galloping away.

The twins glanced at one another, the grimness of the situation mirrored in one another's eyes.

******************************************************************************

Ziendriel glanced about her, noting the tick blanket of tension that permeated through the air of the king's throne room. She could feel the anger and the apprehension rolling off the bodies of her husband and friends; could feel the fear from her son and handmaiden envelope her body. Instinctively, she pressed Erundil to her side, while intertwining her free hand with Adrianna's. With the slightest of movements, Legolas moved to shield his family from the band of Men that now blocked off the only entrance into the room.

Tiruc stood slightly behind and to the right of his leader, an unspoken claim to his position. The other Men in their group fell in rank behind them, their swords already drawn and at the ready. But, yet, Tiruc did not care. For all his eyes, blazing in complete fury and anger as they were, could see, was the smugness in the faces of the Elven Prince as he so boldly guarded the Elven maid that Tiruc so desperately needed to claim.

Lord Kel quickly surveyed the situation, then spoke. "I do not know of what silly notion has entered your pretty little head," he told Ziendriel, his voice deadly quiet, "But, it will now be put to rest and stopped." He motioned with one hand to his soldiers, who immediately began to rush forward.

Legolas and his friends immediately drew their weapons, as did the dethroned King and his men. With only a nod from Aragorn, Elves and Men alike surrounded the young Prince and his mother, and their handmaiden. Heavy breaths of anxiousness could be heard, as well as the tightening of the grips on weapons. Erundil could feel his heart painfully beating against his chest and buried himself deeper into his mother's embrace.

As the Men advanced upon the determined prisoners, a lone voice, sweet, yet commanding stopped all movement. All turned as the last resonant of the shouted, "Halt!" bounced off the crumbling walls, and all were surprised to see the Elven Princess standing proud and tall amidst her protectors.

Ziendriel knew that these corrupted Men of Yelren could be somewhat ruled by her perceived beauty and did not hesitate to abuse that power. She placed Erundil's hand into Adrianna's, then stepped forward, out of the protective circle that vowed her safety. She ignored the hissed, "_Meleth!_" from Legolas, and placed herself in between the warring groups. All eyes were upon her, she could feel it, and although she felt the familiar uneasiness that situation brought, come rushing to her stomach, she nevertheless ignored it.

"Yes, milady?" Lord Kel all but spat in sarcasm. His face threatened to contort with a mixture of rage and annoyance, for the boldness of the maid was quickly losing its luster.

"Tell your men to stand down," Ziendriel answered, her eyes focused solely on him, "If they value life, particularly their own, then they will obey."

A ripple of laughter echoed in the room, all opposing eyes filled with pity for the Elf maid's foolish ideas. Lord Kel was particularly amused as his laughter was counted as the most boisterous. Tiruc, however, continued in silence as his eyes hungrily devoured the form of the Elf before him.

"The faith you have in your Elven people is admirable, Princess," Lord Kel said, once his laughter had subsided, "And, I will admit that the stories I have heard pertaining to their skills as warriors would have me worried. Except, it is plain to see to anyone here, that you are outnumbered." His hand once again gestured to the men that followed him.

Ziendriel merely smiled. "Oh, I do not doubt the skills of my husband and that of my friends," she shot back, "But, that is not the point I now try to express. Although, I will warn you not to underestimate them," she added. She turned slightly and caught the eye of Legolas, who looked questioningly at her. She winked, before turning back. "No, the point is, Lord Kel," she continued, allowing her disdain to flow over his name, "have you heard of the King's Elite?"

"We live in the Land of Gondor!" Lord Kel thundered, "Of course we know of the King's Elite! Many of our fathers and grandfathers have served in that sacred position! What foolish talk do you now babble?!"

"As we speak, this army of Men is headed this way," Ziendriel answered, calmly, "In fact, I do not doubt that they might already be here, surrounding your stronghold. You do know that this army, trained to protect and fight for the King of Gondor, ride here, thousands of Men strong, ready to do battle?"

Lord Kel fell into silence, the puzzlement upon his face. It was Tiruc, whoever, who voiced the thoughts that his leader contemplated. "And, why would the King's Elite be sent here?" he demanded.

Ziendriel venomously smiled. "Why, to protect their king, of course!" she answered, her eyes cold and icy as she looked upon the Man that had tried dominate her.

"What do you-" Tiruc began, but was cut off by Lord Kel.

"No!" he shouted, his eyes dawning with understanding as he finally looked upon the lone Ranger among the group. He took a step forward, then faltered, his face draining to a ghostly white.

Gimli snorted. "It seems I was mistaken," he told his group of friends, his eyes twinkling with amusement, "He does have a mind in that thick head of his."


	25. Chapter 25: 'Tis Madness!

**Chapter 24**

As one, the King's Elite moved as the signal was given. There was no hesitation, no fear, as the enormous body of skilled warriors moved forward, surging towards the deteriorating stronghold that once stood proudly. The pounding of hooves thundered in the air, joined by the sudden war cries of the men who swore to protect their king.

The Men of Yelren witnessed this sight from atop the walls of their home, some with fear, others with fury. There was no doubt now that battle was upon them, and despite their feelings of either fear or anger, they would meet this call with their own battle cries.

The energy around the unveiling battle scene was tense and heavy. The King's Elite, even as they rode furiously towards their mark, were prepared and ready, though they did not know what to expect from their opponents. Yelren had long faded from their view and what history there had been of them, now met the same fate.

"Ready the catapults!" the captain, a hunched over man of sixty-three years, rasped, his voice betraying his fear. Grunts of effort were his only replies, as men equal his age and stature struggled with the giant devices scattered along the main wall.

"This is madness!" the man beside suddenly shouted, his eyes focused on the assault that drew nearer with every second. He, too, was older in his years, but did not look better for it. He broke his eyes away from the army, and turned to his captain. "We will not survive this!" he told him. When they captain said nothing, the man wildly shook his head. "The devil take you!" he shouted, "All of you who foolishly stand here, willing to fight. I hope Lord Kel falls into madness when he sees your slaughtered bodies piled in the courtyard!" And, with that, he fled.

Several men followed him, the fear evident on their retreating figures, and the captain still remained silent. He waited until their fleeing footsteps no longer echoed against the walls, then turned his attention to the oncoming attack. "Hold!" he shouted, and the protests of forgotten use from the catapults ceased. The king's army was getting closer, the fall of their horses' hooves echoing the painful pounding of his heart. Every part of him felt conflicted and divided, despair and discontent washing over simultaneously.

He closed his eyes. "Fire!" he commanded.

"Do you hear that?" Legolas murmured to the others, even as Lord Kel and his men closed rank around their small group. Everyone who had heard him became still, the weapons in their hands clutched tightly as they perched their ears.

"What is that?" Gimli asked, his face strained in effort, "Thunder?" He became still once again and listened as the sound grew louder.

Lorith grinned, smugness in his eyes as he settled his eyes upon Lord Kel. "The King's Elite," was all he said, and laughed once again when the man's face blanched.

Gragoc barked with laughter, startling everyone. "It is well," he announced, "For my arms have been impatient for battle." He twirled his sword once, then fell into his familiar fighting stance.

The fear in Lord Kel's eyes grew wider and his mind began to race; sweat began to pour down his face. "You!" he barked to the nearest soldier. "Scout the main wall! Find out what's going on!" he continued. The soldier nodded and quickly disappeared from the room. Lord Kel watched his departure, trying to focus his jumbled thoughts.

'What have you done, Kel?" another soldier shouted, even as the ruckus outside the wall increased in sound and intensity. A slight tremor rippled through the ground. "You have doomed us all!" he cursed. Several of his men murmured their agreement.

"Quiet!" Lord Kel yelled, his body shaking. He began to rub his temples, as if to ward off a pain. He looked up, his eyes searching until they fell upon the Elven princess. "The fault is hers," he rumbled darkly, "Had she given in willingly to our request, we would not be at this moment.

Ziendriel laughed, unkindly. "Your request?" she repeated, "Now I know you for a fool."

"The responsibility of fault is yours, Lord Kel," Aragorn told him, his voice cold and hard, "Look no further than yourself for blame."

Lord Kel opened his mouth in reply, only to be interrupted by the return of his soldier.

"It is madness!" he reported, struggling for breath. "We are attacked from all sides and nothing our men do have any affect! The King's Elite have already made progress in bringing down the main gate!" He paused for a moment, the looked to his leader. "What do we do, milord?" he asked.

Lord Kel blanched for a moment, then somehow regained his composure. He straightened his back, the glanced at Tiruc, who only nodded darkly. "We fight," was his reply. His eyes swept the room and he singled out a few of his men. "Go and help at the main gate!" he ordered them, the light in his eyes suddenly gleaming. "The rest of you, round up the prisoners!" he added.

He realized a moment too late that that was the wrong thing to say. The words had hardly left his mouth when Legolas and his band leapt into action, their swords clashing with that of their would-be captors. A moment later, King Narìn ordered his men to follow.

Outside, the furious crack of the main gate blasted thru the air. Splintering wood exploded in all directions as the battering ram powered by twenty of the strongest soldiers of the king's army continued its relentless assault against the age-worn wood.

Cries of panic and horror echoed among the Yelren men, even as the gate gave way to the ram, allowing entrance to their opponents.

The cries of triumph and clash of weapons rent the air after that.

Tiruc was growing weary.

The arm that wielded his sword grew heavier by the second, and both shoulders were beginning to groan in protest. Yet, with all his fury and all his skill, his opponent showed no signs of surrendering. And that was just not acceptable.

Legolas, on the other hand, felt no remorse for not succumbing to the Man's obvious fury and arrogance. In truth, the Man's skill was not impressive to him, nor did it give cause for him to worry. Without conceit, Legolas merely thought that this Man, this Tiruc, as he was called, was no worthy opponent. He fought with distraction; his energy was poorly distributed among the blows and parries he executed. It was easy enough to dodge and defend, but Legolas grew tired and thought his energies better placed elsewhere.

Battle surrounded him, but Legolas gave no thought to it. His focus was on the beautiful Elf standing atop the dais, her arms protectively wrapped around the equally handsome Elfing at her side. He watched as his wife defended herself and their son whenever a wayward solider dared invade their space. He smiled as he noticed the look of absolute fury registered on Ziendriel's face as she pushed yet another solider away from Erundil, only to return her arms around the boy.

Tiruc noticed the Elf prince was distracted and followed his line of vision, only to find his blood begin to boil. The prince was looking upon the Elf maiden once again! "Die, arrogant filth!" he screamed, lunging forward, even as his sword plunged towards Legolas.

With one graceful move of his body, Legolas dodged the offending weapon and brought the hilt of his sword down upon the spot between Tiruc's shoulders. As Tiruc began to fall, Legolas brought up his knee and slammed it into the Man's throat, causing him to choke on his own spittle as he found himself upright once again.

Legolas did not hesitate his assault. His blades already drawn, he slashed across Tiruc's chest, arms and abdomen, rendering the Man helpless even with his sword. Blood began to pour from his wounds, and infuriated sounds struggled to past the tender spot of Tiruc's throat. His eyes were bright with rage as he struggled to move forward, his injured limbs refusing to cooperate.

"I grow tired of this!" Legolas shouted at him, "My time and attention are needed elsewhere." He turned to leave the helpless Man, only to find himself engaged in another battle. With little or no effort, he easily dispatched this opponent and quickly made his way to his wife and son.

"We must get you and Erundil out of harm's way, _meleth_," he told her, once he was by her side. He surveyed the throne room and saw nothing but battle.

"The King's Elite are within these walls, Legolas," Ziendriel told him, "The Men of Yelren give no opposition; they are easily waylaid. Our safety is no longer a concern."

"You are still in danger, Ziendriel!" he all but yelled at her. He gently, but firmly pulled her forward and pointed. "The danger is still in the form of the two men who kidnapped you! Do you not see how this Lord Kel fights to make his way towards you? Or how Tiruc glares with murder in his heart, even as he bleeds on the ground? They are no longer rational men, wife. Madness has overcome them, and that madness is you!"

She stared at the two men and knew her husband was right. Even as he fought, Lord Kel's gaze was never far from her. He moved from one opponent to the next, as if strolling through a courtyard, with no cares, making his way towards the dais, towards her. The opponents he did leave were soon engaged with another of his men, freeing him to pursue what he was wroth with madness for.

Her.

"Come, milady," Adrianna urged, laying a hand upon her other arm, "There is still the secret passages you mentioned earlier."

As if in confirmation, Aragorn suddenly appeared before them. "Legolas, my army has broken thru," he reported, "I will meet with them and give them report. Take your family and escape through the underground ways and return to Minas Tirith. It would do us no good to have our chief witnesses harmed before any justice can be given." He bowed quickly to Ziendriel and Erundil, then jumped back into the fray.

"If not my voice, then heed that of Aragorn!" Legolas pleaded. He turned back to the crowd and called, "Gimli!" It wasn't long before his eyes found his Dwarf friend, thick in the middle of the action, his axe visible. The axe took one final swing, then was lowered as Gimli made his way towards them.

"Very well," Ziendriel agreed, albeit reluctantly. Her eyes became troubled, as she gathered her son into her arms.

Both her husband and son noticed. "What is it?" they asked in unison.

Ziendriel merely smiled, albeit weakly. "Nothing," she murmured. Louder, she added, "Let us be off on the king's order!" She took Adrianna by the hand and followed Legolas to the side of the dais.

As if by an unspoken signal, they were followed by Jhad, Gragoc and Lorith, each one incapacitating their opponents with ease.

The secret door was easy enough to find and open, and a moment later they were plunged into darkness. There was some murmuring among the men, then the sudden flare of light as a torch was lit.

Erundil stirred in his mother's arms, clutching her tightly. "I want to go home, _atara_," he whispered to her, his clear voice now clouded with fear and exhaustion.

Ziendriel kissed his forehead. "As do I, little one," she whispered into his ear, "And, you will be home soon. I promise." She shifted his lithe body in her arms. "Do not think of where we are now, but think of where we soon will be. Think of your Papa and Mama waiting so eagerly at home to hold you; think of the strong embrace your grandfather, the king will have for you when you return. Think of that and nothing else, and soon it will come to pass!"

Erundil obediently closed his eyes and concentrated. "I can see them!" he whispered excitedly after a moment.

Ziendriel smiled. "Hold to that, my son," she told him. She looked over to her husband, his eyes questioning her silently. She slightly shook her head, which only troubled him more.

There was something in his wife's voice, something that did not sit well with him. It was as if she thought their escape led them not to freedom and safety, but to something else. Something that troubled, almost frightened her. He desperately wanted to question her, to delve into her mind and assure her, but knew she would refuse.

Instead, he held out his hand to her and said, "We must hurry." She took it and with a deep breath, followed him further into the endless darkness towards their escape.


End file.
